Fate Decides Our Future, Volume III
by fananicfan
Summary: The second half of the current story has been added. I hope to be back soon with another installment.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - DECISIONS**

**PART ONE **

**WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2008**

**MAC'S ROOM**

**BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER**

**BETHESDA, MD**

**1045**

Harm strolled to his wife's room feeling good, well, as good as a sleep-deprived new father could feel.

Reaching her room, Harm pushed open the door and walked inside to find Mac sniffling as if she were crying or had been.

He admonished himself as he moved to his wife's side. 'Why hadn't he gone to the NICU first to check on the health of his baby girl? Then he'd have been prepared to find her this way.'

"Mac, what is it?" he asked nervously, having realized that not only could she be in this state because she'd been told that something was wrong with their baby, but that she could have bad news to tell him about her own health, as well.

"My baby hates me," Mac announced before she began to cry harder.

Though Harm was sure that, for whatever reason his wife believed that to be true, he didn't believe that to be the case, and he found himself breathing a little easier now that he knew that Mac hadn't had to hear the doctor give her bad news without him being there to support her.

Harm, having made it to her bedside, but fearful of hurting her if he put his arms around her to comfort her, wrapped his hand around the one of hers that didn't have the IV in the way.

"I'm sure that she doesn't hate you. She's only two days old. She hasn't lived long enough to learn to hate anyone. So, why would you say that she hates you?" he asked.

"Okay, then she doesn't like me. Is that better?" Mac snapped at him, looking down at their hands.

Harm knew by the way that she was eyeing his hand that she was pondering pulling her hand from his, so he needed to say something to make her change her mind since he needed the contact, too. It made him feel like he was doing something to help.

"Why wouldn't she like her mother? She's a wonderful woman," he said sweetly, hoping that she'd take it as the compliment that he'd intended and not think that he was being condescending.

"I don't know, but she doesn't," Mac said, looking at him.

Her sobs had reduced to just tears streaming down her face.

Knowing that something must have happened to make his wife feel the way that she did, Harm made a request. "Tell me what happened to make you feel that way."

"After you left, I went to visit her. Though, as you know, I've been pumping my breast milk for her, last night they gave me the chance to nurse her for the first time, but she wouldn't even latch on, and I tried early this morning and a little while ago, too, but she doesn't want _me_…three tries, three failures. She hates me," Mac explained, starting to cry again.

Harm dropped a kiss into Mac's hair while contemplating in which direction he wanted to go when he spoke.

Not wanting the room to remain silent for too long, he quickly reached a decision about what to say.

"If she's anything like her father, I think that it's far more likely that you and she had only a failure to communicate and that she loves her mother as much as I do," Harm said lovingly.

"I don't think that's it," Mac said tearfully. "After my third try, the NICU nurse said that babies born prematurely often don't develop the sucking reflex at the rate that either the doctors or their parents would like to see, and at two days old, it might be too soon to expect her to be able to nurse. She also said that I shouldn't worry because she hasn't taken to a bottle yet, either, so I just needed to keep trying until she got the hang of it." Mac sniffled, a sign that she was bringing her emotions back under control.

"The nurse probably sees this kind of thing a lot working in the NICU. So, though I'm sure that it's difficult and frustrating for you, the nurse is probably right. You just need to give our girl a little more time to figure out what she's supposed to do."

Mac tears were finally gone, for which Harm was grateful since it meant that she was feeling better and able to think clearly again.

"I guess that makes you right," Mac said with a tired smile.

"How am I right?" Harm asked, confused, since to him, her statement was coming out of the blue.

"Right that she and I had a misunderstanding…she must think that I'm frustrated with her for not knowing what she should do when I'm not. I'm just worried that I won't be able to take her home when I'm released if she isn't able to nurse yet."

"Did the nurse give you any idea of how often you should try to breast-feed her?" Harm asked.

"She suggested that, since we were both so upset from the last try in particular, I don't try to feed her every feeding time, perhaps every other one, or even take the rest of today off and try in the morning. If they get her to suck from a bottle in the nursery before then, they'll tell me so that I can see if she'll accept the breast before she gets used to sucking from a bottle nipple, which takes less effort."

"She's getting your milk, so even if she has to be bottle-fed, she'll be getting the health benefits of being breast-fed," Harm commented, trying to focus Mac on the positive.

"I know, and if I have to accept that I'm doing all that I can, I will ... but I don't want to settle. I was able to breast-feed Matthew and I want to have that bonding time with my little girl, too." Mac inhaled sharply. "Now, before I start to cry about it again, let's talk about something else. Tell me how your meeting with the SecNav went this morning when you told him how the coin toss came out."

"I didn't tell him how I came to my decision," Harm said with a chuckle. "I just told him that I appreciated his patience and that, after careful consideration, I had decided that I was honored to know that I'm being considered for the position and, whether I'm appointed JAG or not, I don't think that it's the right time for me to retire and that I'd be proud to serve my country in whatever capacity my skills are useful to the Navy."

"I'm sure that he was impressed by your words."

"I don't know if he was impressed since he didn't really comment directly on my decision. He just said that the meeting to make the final selection was set to begin on Friday at 1000 and would last until they'd made a decision."

"They're going to work through the weekend?" Mac questioned with surprise.

"It seems that six weeks before the Presidential election is a bad time to have one of the top positions in the military open. So the SecNav told me that, if they don't reach an agreement on Friday, they'll be meeting over the weekend and that there'll be a new JAG appointed before Monday when the position is officially vacated by Cresswell, who's starting his terminal leave."

"Well, I hope that they make the right decision and select you as the next JAG," Mac said with pride.

**THURSDAY, OCTOBER 2, 2008 **

**BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER**

**BETHESDA, MD**

**0820**

Harm felt like he'd gone ten rounds in a fight. He was beaten down both physically and mentally from trying to spend as much time as possible at the hospital with his wife and premature daughter and still be a presence at home for his other four young children.

Harm was sleeping a couple of hours at a time here and there, but his naps were only enough to rest his tired eyes and get him through until he was able to take another one. They weren't the recuperative sleep that his mind and body needed.

Though Mac had been doing her best to take the suggested break from trying to breast-feed her baby girl after yesterday morning's failed attempt, she'd grown impatient and had had Harm accompany her to the NICU to try again before he'd left last night.

Minutes after he'd arrived this morning, Mac had tried again, and though their daughter had latched on this time, since she hadn't suckled, Mac had viewed it as another unsuccessful attempt and had been reduced to tears again.

Unable to do more than hold Mac's hand while she cried it out, Harm was feeling completely helpless to make things better for his wife.

With Mac having cried herself to sleep, Harm wanted to see his baby girl.

As he plodded towards the NICU, Harm let out a sigh. He didn't know what he was going to say, but he felt that it was time to have his first father to daughter lecture, and it was going to be about how she was upsetting her mother.

With the double doors of the NICU in sight, Harm shook his head in disbelief that he'd been seriously considering what to say to his newborn daughter to get her to comply with his wishes and nurse from her mother.

He quickly surmised that the only reasonable explanation for doing such a thing was that he was cracking under the pressure of recent events.

It would be completely understandable, he thought, given that, in the past week he'd had a crazy man stalking his family, his daughter had decided to make an early arrival, Mac had nearly died after her delivery, he'd been trying to decide if he was going to retire and, if that weren't enough, tomorrow was the day that the committee was supposed to vote on who to appoint as the next JAG.

So much rested on their decision. For instance, would a move be in his family's future, too?

Yes, that had to be it. He was suffering from stress overload and, combined with his lack of sleep, it was giving him delusions about being able to reason with his three-day-old daughter.

**NICU**

**0807**

It hadn't been three _full_ days yet, but Harm could already go through the necessary precautions of scrubbing up and putting on a sterile gown before entering the NICU with the ease of someone who'd been doing it for months.

Even though Harm had the routine down, he was hopeful that he wouldn't have to perform the time-consuming actions for much longer since, just yesterday, his baby girl had been doing so well that she'd been moved from an Isolette to an open bed. It was more of a plastic tray than a bed, really. However, whatever it was called, it was much easier for him to scoop up his daughter and hold her several times a day without disturbing her monitoring wires.

Harm entered the nursery unit, and his ears were filled with the sound of his daughter crying, wailing at the top of her lungs.

It was amazing to Harm that, in only the accumulated few hours that he'd spent in here with his baby since her birth, he could already tell her cry from the other babies' cries.

Today, a nurse, one whom he'd seen several times over the course of the last few days, was standing over his daughter.

Since Harm had just entered the room, he had no way of knowing if something was wrong with his daughter or if the nurse was there only for the sake of trying to soothe her upset little patient.

Worried that it could be the first, Harm drew a deep breath, bracing himself to hear bad news, offered the nurse a tired smile and then turned his attention to his crying baby.

"What's the matter with daddy's girl?" Harm asked as he began to stroke her cheek with his bent index finger.

"I'm afraid that her being upset is my fault." Harm looked up in the direction from where the voice had come and saw Sarah's pediatrician standing a few feet away. "I woke her while conducting my exam."

"How's my baby girl doing?" Harm asked nervously.

Given his wife's tear-filled morning, he was hoping to have good news about their baby when Mac woke up.

With her father's soothing touch, Sarah Patricia Rabb's cries ceased, restoring the NICU to a quieter place where Harm and the doctor could talk without having to raise their voices to hear over his daughter's wails.

"She's doing very well. In fact, so well that she doesn't need all this extra monitoring and, as soon as I can consult your wife's doctor about her condition, I'll make a decision about whether to release your daughter from the NICU to the regular care nursery or to in-room care."

"She's doing that well?" Harm questioned, a little surprised, given the problems with her nursing.

"I know that she probably gave you a scare that first day when she was having trouble maintaining her body temperature, but I assure you that that's behind her, and she's been doing so well that she no longer needs the NICU."

"Are you sure? Since she isn't eating, I mean."

The doctor couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from turning up to form a slight smile at the concern of this father for his little girl.

"I understand your concern. However, though she isn't nursing, she isn't going hungry. They're feeding her here, and if I opt for in-room care, she can be taken to the regular nursery for feedings temporarily. As far as the long term goes, if no progress has been made in the next day or two, we'll be teaching you and your wife how to feed her at home in the same manner that we've been doing here."

"So she doesn't have to be eating in a traditional way for her to be released from the hospital?" Harm asked, holding his breath in anticipation of the answer. This could be the information that would ease Mac's anxiety over the failed attempts to breast-feed their baby.

"It would be ideal if Sarah were feeding from the breast or a bottle, but there are other acceptable methods for delivering nourishment such as the syringe-style feeder with a tiny tube attached that fits against the roof of her mouth, thus rendering a sucking reflex unnecessary. She needs to know only how to swallow, and she's been doing that for the nurses."

Harm let out the breath that he'd been holding. He just knew that the fact that their daughter's issue with nursing wasn't going to keep her from being released from the hospital was going to make Mac feel a lot better, at least less worried that their baby wouldn't be able to go home with her.

"Since Sarah showed signs of improving by latching on this morning, I'm not sure that we're even going to have to worry about alternative methods. That's why I hope that your wife's doctor tells me that she's recovered sufficiently to be able to care for her baby in-room, even if for only part of the day. I believe that reuniting mother and child as quickly as possible will allow them to bond, and the bond that they create during that time will allow their natural instincts to kick in and solve the feeding problem," the pediatrician explained.

"Is there anything that I can do to help them?" Harm asked.

The doctor looked down at the newborn who'd been soothed to sleep by her father's touch.

"You seem to have good instincts, so keep doing what you're doing, but if you have any other questions, don't hesitate to call me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see if I can get in touch with your wife's doctor to see about getting this little one into the care of her parents as soon as possible."

Harm offered the doctor a tired smile.

The doctor smiled in return before stating, "Once I know if Sarah will be moving to the regular nursery or into your wife's room, I'll let you know, but, in the meantime, you can continue to visit her here."

Harm nodded in acknowledgment and offered a "Thank you" in gratitude as he stared down at his daughter.

She was sure that his attention was so focused on his daughter that she could've walked away without a word, and he wouldn't have noticed that she'd left, but the doctor replied, "You're welcome."

**MAC'S ROOM**

**BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER**

**BETHESDA, MD**

**1245**

Had the failed attempt to nurse her baby this morning been the first or second try, the nurse's words of 'she latched on, that's progress' would have eased Mac's mind about the situation. However, being the fifth or sixth or maybe even the seventh try - she was trying not to count - Mac was starting to feel that her baby girl was going to have to stay in the hospital much longer than anyone had originally thought, which was starting to wear on her belief that her tiny little girl was going to be okay.

Having gotten some rest after her emotionally draining morning, Mac had awakened from her nap with a husband about to burst at the seams with news about their baby girl.

Harm's news that their daughter was doing so well that a release from the NICU was in the works lifted Mac's spirits about the health of her baby. However, with the failed attempt to nurse her baby this morning still weighing heavily on her mind, Mac was left feeling useless and unsure that she was the best person to care for the newborn, causing her to have doubts about the possible placement of Sarah in her room.

When her lunch had arrived in her room forty minutes ago, Mac had been able to convince Harm to leave to go eat a decent meal. However, he'd agreed a little too easily, so she suspected that he knew that she really wanted just to be alone with her thoughts for a bit, and that though he'd left her room, he probably hadn't left the hospital.

Though she had many things on her mind, most of her thoughts were about how she felt about the possibility that her baby was going to be moving into her room some time today.

Mac was slowly able to push aside the feeling that her tiny girl would starve to death if left in her care, wanting to believe that having her daughter close would do as the pediatrician had told Harm - that once she and her daughter had had some time together to bond, the nursing would come naturally. However, a new, practical worry began to creep into her thoughts.

Still feeling a little weak and in some pain from her surgery, she wondered if having little Sarah in her room full-time would be physically too much for her.

Mac was ready to dismiss her concern about being able to change diapers and such, knowing that Harm would be there if she needed help or needed some time to rest until it came to her that keeping him here with them full-time wouldn't be fair to the children who they had at home.

Consumed with her thoughts, Mac hadn't eaten much and, given the time when her door began to open, she assumed that it was a hospital volunteer coming in to remove her lunch tray.

"Hey," Harm said, sticking just his head into Mac's room so as not to reveal the bag that he had in his hand.

Eyeing her still almost full lunch tray, he added, "Do you need more time to finish your lunch?"

"No, I'm finished," Mac replied, wondering why he wasn't coming into the room.

"You didn't eat anything," Harm said with concern.

"I'm not hungry," Mac informed him, bracing herself for a speech about either screwing up her blood sugar or on needing to keep up her strength after having had a baby and surgery.

"I can't really blame you for that. Hospital food makes you crave my meatless meatloaf, doesn't it?" Harm joked, pushing the door open enough so that he could lift the brown paper bag into view, the logo of which he had facing him so that Mac couldn't see it and might get the idea that he'd brought her some of his infamous dish from home.

"Harm, I'm already in the hospital, so please tell me that you didn't bring me… " Before she could finish, Harm entered the room grinning, and she knew that he was teasing her.

"No, I didn't, but I did bring you..." Harm said before placing down a fast-food cup next to her lunch tray.

Mac's eyes lit up, and a smile began to spread across her face when she saw the familiar logo on the side of the cup.

"...a chocolate shake and…" he said while placing the bag that he'd been holding in his other hand next to the cup. "...a Beltway Burger, but if you aren't hungry…" He let his voice trail off as he saw her hand already making its way to the chocolate shake.

"I didn't think that you'd leave the hospital," Mac stated as she wrapped her hand around the cup and began to pull it towards her.

"I wasn't going to, but then I went to see little Sarah and decided that you needed something special to eat to celebrate," Harm said, taking great pleasure in seeing the contented look on Mac's face from her first taste of the shake. "Since it was you, I thought that this would fit the bill."

"Celebrate what?" Mac said after releasing the straw from her lips.

"Our baby getting out of the NICU," Harm informed Mac proudly.

Mac was immediately less interested in her shake and more interested in the information that Harm had about their baby girl's move.

"When are they moving her?" Mac asked excitedly.

"They've already moved her. I walked her to the nursery myself before I went to get your burger."

Mac didn't know how the change in location would affect her schedule for visiting her baby, so, lifting her cup, she asked, "Now that she's in the regular nursery, did you ask when I can go in to see her?"

After asking her question, Mac took the straw between her lips, and Harm noticed that what had seemed to be joy at getting the treat now seemed to be a source of comfort for her.

"I didn't have to ask because they told me. She should be here any minute," he replied, avoiding the sensitive topic of breast-feeding by not admitting to Mac that the nurses had been instructed to take care of Sarah's next feeding before bringing her to Mac's room.

"She's being released to in-room care?" Mac questioned in disbelief.

"Your doctor said that, though you certainly aren't ready to be released, you are recovered enough to care for Sarah in-room for part of the day. So I suggest that you eat up. You're going to need your strength."

Mac suddenly had her appetite back and reached for the bag on her bed table.

**1302**

Less than five minutes had passed since Mac had finished the last bite of her burger and sucked down the last of her shake when a nurse pushed open the door and said, "We have someone here to see you."

The nurse had barely gotten the words out of her mouth before another nurse pushed the little hospital bassinet into the room.

After checking the identification bracelets of mother and baby and being doubled-checked by the other nurse, the nurse who'd announced little Sarah's arrival spoke to them for a few minutes about the doctor's instructions about what being in-room part-time meant, and after reassuring the couple that Baby Sarah was doing well and that they were just a nurses' call button away, the two nurses left the room to allow the parents and child to get better acquainted.

As soon as the nurses had left the room, Mac started to get out of bed, saying, "I want to move to the chair to be closer to mybaby."

As Harm offered Mac his assistance to help her relocate to the chair, he wondered why, all of a sudden, little Sarah was _her_ baby.

Once in the chair and as comfortable as her post-surgery condition would allow, Mac's eyes became fixed on her tiny newborn daughter, and her hand reached out and pushed down the edge of the blanket so that she could see her baby's entire face as she spoke lovingly, "Hello, baby girl." Not taking her eyes off of little Sarah, she said to Harm, "She looks so sweet."

"She's beautiful like her mother," Harm whispered with his eyes fixed on his wife and baby girl.

"I don't want to wake her, but I want to hold her," Mac said softly.

"I don't think that she'd mind. To minimize you moving around until you've healed a bit more, if you'll sit back and get comfortable, I'll hand her to you," Harm offered.

"Since the bed can be adjusted with just the touch of a button to make me more comfortable if I get tired of sitting in one position, maybe I should be on the bed to hold her."

"If you think that it'll work better, let's get you back into bed," Harm replied, already moving to offer his assistance.

**1317 **

Harm was sitting in the chair next to Mac's bed.

He was happy to be watching his wife hold their baby girl since, for the first time in three days, the smile on Mac's face reached her eyes.

"You know that you're going to have to let me hold our little doll every once in a while," Harm said meekly, not really wanting to separate the two of them, but more as a means to remind Mac that she was his child, too.

Without looking up from the child in her arms, Mac said, "Are you sure about her name? We haven't turned in Sarah Patricia as the name for her birth certificate yet, but since it has to be filed within five days of her birth, we don't have much time left to decide."

"Her name may not have been legally recorded yet, but Sarah Patricia is what we've told the family. My mother is already calling her namesake Patty, so do you think that it's wise to change her name now?"

"I wasn't suggesting that we change both of her names. I'm just thinking that three Sarah Rabbs in the same family will be too much."

"Changing her name would reduce the number of Sarah Rabbs who I know by one..." Harm said, mulling over the suggestion as if it were a clue that he was trying to process in a case on which he was working. "... but I kind of think that Sarah suits her. She's pretty and she has my heart like her mother. Then there's her resemblance, at least personality-wise, to my grandmother, who's always early for everything and is a very strong woman."

"So, you weren't naming her after only me?" Mac asked, turning her head to look at him for the first time since she'd begun to hold their baby.

A deer-caught-in-headlights look came over Harm's face because he wasn't sure what kind of reaction that he'd get from his wife if he told her the truth, that he really hadn't put much thought into the name, but rather the name had just slipped from his lips when he'd looked at his daughter for the first time. It had been only after he'd given it some thought about why he'd said it that he'd come up with possible reasons that it had been the first name that he'd uttered, especially since it had been one of the first names that they'd eliminated from his list.

A smile started to appear on Mac's face as she realized that her question had put her husband in a tough situation because, if he'd named their daughter after only his grandmother, he wouldn't want to confess that information to her.

To let her husband off the hook, Mac spoke again.

"Maybe, as a compromise, we could give her your grandmother's middle name and, if you really want to name her after me, too, then we could use my middle name, and Patricia could have two middle names."

"I don't know, Mac. The name just seems right to me, but if you really want to change it ..." His voice trailed off.

Though the baby in her arms was in a different generation than her namesakes, since the other two women were still living, Mac really thought that three Sarahs was too many in one family. However, since she'd told Harm that he could pick their daughter's name, he had to be in complete agreement with her, or their baby's name would remain Sarah Patricia Rabb.

Mac didn't think that she was going to win the 'name change' dispute, but in hopes that he'd change his mind if he gave it some thought, Mac had one last thing to try before she gave up on the idea completely.

"Well, I'm a little tired. Why don't you hold her for a while and talk the name change idea over with her? When I wake up, we'll see if the two of you have a final decision for me," Mac suggested.

Mac couldn't help but notice the broad grin that came across Harm's face at the mention of him taking a turn at holding their daughter.

"Sure, you get some rest. We'll be here when you wake up," Harm replied.

"If they come to take her to the nursery and I'm not awake, you wake me so that I can say goodbye, okay?" Mac requested as Harm began to lift the sleeping newborn from her arms.

With his daughter settled against his chest, Harm sat quietly with her until Mac had drifted off to sleep.

With her mother sleeping, it was time to talk over the proposed name change with his baby girl so that a decision could be reached before the deadline to submit the paperwork to record her birth.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART ****TWO**

**FRIDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2008**

**BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER**

**BETHESDA, MD**

Harm had been concerned about his wife's mood swings during the first few days, but hadn't said anything. However, Patty being brought into her room for care had seemed to have fixed that, at least temporarily.

Yesterday, when a nurse had come to take the baby to the nursery for the first time and then no sooner had Patty been whisked away than another nurse had come to see if Mac felt up to expressing milk, Mac had been reminded of the fact she wasn't able to nurse her baby, causing Mac's mood to shift again, but thirty minutes later, when Patty had been returned, Mac's smile had come back in full force, causing Harm to wish that their daughter could be in-room full-time so that his wife would keep smiling.

It had been the second time when the nurse had come for Patty and then another nurse had come in to see if Mac could express milk that Mac had realized that the nursery staff had Patty's feedings scheduled into their routine, leaving her wondering if she was ever going to be given another chance to breast-feed her baby, which had left her feeling a little depressed again.

At 2000, the nurse had come to take their baby to the nursery. This time, it hadn't been just for feeding, but for the night so that Patty could be monitored and Mac could get some rest.

With Harm there to help, Mac had found the strength to care for Patty throughout the day, but caring for her baby had left a post-surgery Mac very tired. So, though Mac hadn't been happy to have her baby girl leave her room, she'd known that she'd be able to get the rest that her body had been craving, so logic and her fatigue had won out over the saddness of missing precious hours with her baby girl.

Harm had stayed with Mac last night until she'd fallen asleep and then he'd stopped at the nursery to say good night to his daughter and to find out when his baby girl would be returning to her mother's room in the morning.

Having been informed that his daughter would be returned to her mother's room after breakfast, Harm had fought with himself about whether to change his schedule and have Frank take Ty and Abigail to school and come to the hospital early to be there with Mac when their daughter arrived in her room. However, not wanting to make his other children feel as if they were being pushed aside because of the new baby and figuring that Mac might like a little time alone with the newborn, he'd opted to stick to the schedule that he'd established the last few days.

Harm thought about stopping to check in at the nursery first. If his baby girl was still in there, then the morning hadn't gone well, and he'd be prepared to console his wife when he got to her room. However, he decided to think positively and walked straight to his wife's room.

**MAC'S ROOM**

**0800**

Harm had started to push open the door when a nurse immediately appeared at the gap between the door and the door frame.

"You may want to wait outside for a few minutes," the nurse said quietly.

"Why? What's wrong?" His questions died off when the sound of his baby girl's cries reached his ears.

Mac, having heard Harm's voice, spoke. "That's my husband. Let him in."

The nurse turned her head towards her patient. "Are you sure? Most of my patients prefer to attempt to nurse their baby in private."

"He won't hinder the attempt. If anything, he'll make it easier…on both of us."

Mac couldn't see the smile on Harm's face at Mac's admission that having him in the room was helpful to her. It was the first time that she'd said so, and it made him feel as if just his being here was the 'something' that he could do to help.

The nurse's face came back around to look at Harm through the crack in the door. "Come in," she said before stepping away from the door to allow him to enter.

Harm stepped into the room and saw that Mac once again had tears in her eyes.

Having heard part of the nurse's softly spoken question and Mac's answer about 'not hindering the attempt,' Harm assumed that his wife's tears were the result of Mac's attempt to breast-feed Patty, but he was puzzled as to why his daughter was upset.

Acting on his instincts as a father and husband, he reached for the baby, scooped her up into his arms and settled her against his chest. Cradling his daughter firmly and rocking her gently, Harm leaned over and pressed his lips to his wife's forehead.

After administering the kiss, which was both an acknowledgement of Mac's frustration and a gesture of his support, he asked in a calm and even voice, "What's got my girls so upset?"

The nurse observed that the baby immediately began to calm in her father's arms, that his wife focused on him and that her demeanor instantly became more relaxed.

Feeling confidant that the tall, good-looking man had the situation under control and was perhaps the best medicine for both mother and child, the nurse said, "Why don't I come back in a few minutes and then we'll try again?" She then turned and left the three of them alone.

Mac was glad that the nurse had left.

It wasn't that the woman was mean or anything, but given the circumstances, she just hadn't been making things better. If anything, her presence had been making things worse because Mac felt as if she were being graded, and if she didn't get a passing grade, they wouldn't let her take her baby home.

Alone with her husband and baby, Mac sniffled and began to explain the cause of 'his girls' strife.

"The nurse brought Patty in a little while ago to let me try to nurse her before they fed her this morning. Patty and I were just getting settled in when that woman, a lactation counselor, came in and noted that she'd latched on, but since she hadn't begun to suckle, the nurse stood there telling me to try this and try that and watching me...us. I was feeling pressured to do everything just right, and then Patty started to cry, and then I started to get upset, not only because Patty was upset, but because I'm beginning to think that I won't ever be able to breast-feed her, and since she's my last baby..."

Mac felt the sting of tears returning to her eyes and had to stop to take in a calming breath. She understood what the surgery had done to her, but that didn't mean that she'd come to terms with it or had accepted it yet.

Mac paused for just a few seconds. She was almost through telling her story and she just needed to get it all out.

"...that's really important to me, and then you came, and I didn't think that woman was going to let you in, and I knew that you could make it better and..." Mac had to stop talking. Telling him what had happened was making her upset all over again.

'I knew that I should have come early today,' Harm thought before getting an idea about how to keep his girls calm while Mac made another attempt to nurse their daughter.

"How are you feeling this morning...physically, I mean?" Harm asked with a sparkle in his eyes, making Mac wonder what was on his mind.

"I'm doing better, why?" Mac asked, confused.

"I have an idea that might work, but you need to be able to scoot forward enough for me to get behind you in order to do it."

'Get behind me...?' Mac's mind was confused by her husband's train of thought until she realized what he was suggesting.

"It may take me a minute, but I think that's a great idea. Let's try it," Mac said excitedly.

Her post-surgery discomfort forced Mac to move into position slowly, but she did it, and then Harm placed Patty in her arms and removed his shoes before he lifted one leg and slid it behind her, his long legs definitely the reason that he could accomplish the task. Then he situated himself so that she could sit between his legs and rest her back against his chest.

Mac settled back against Harm, and Harm placed his large hand under his daughter, providing her body with additional support.

This had been a favorite position of theirs when Matthew had been nursing, and it would be the one in which the lactation counselor would find them when she returned to Mac's room ten minutes later to discover that she was no longer needed because the baby was taking in nourishment now.

**MEETING ROOM**

**CAPITOL HILL**

**1027**

The committee had been drinking coffee and chatting among themselves for almost thirty minutes. Now it was time to forego the political elbow rubbing and get down to business.

"Gentlemen...and Ladies, if we're going to reach a decision by the end of the day, we should begin," Secretary of the Navy Sheffield said to get the attention of those members involved in private conversations, most of which he was sure had nothing to do with today's agenda.

"I don't know why we're even here. I thought that was why, during our restructure of the legal services in 2006, we decided to have a Deputy JAG so that there wouldn't be any long-term interim JAGs like after Chegwidden. We simply need to put the Deputy JAG into the position of JAG," a man with salt and pepper hair, who was sitting at the conference table, said with a sneer.

"I agree," the voice of a dark-haired female member of the committee stated. "However, since we've cleared our calendars to be here, we should use this opportunity to discuss who should be appointed as the next Deputy JAG."

"I disagree," a burly man on the committee said. "Though that was the intent of the position of the Deputy JAG, it _is _within our power to vote someone into the position of Judge Advocate General and not promote the Deputy, and quite frankly, I'm not sure that we're ready for our first female JAG, especially when that woman is Admiral Krennick. I'm sure that she's a capable attorney, but I've met her. She isn't very personable and, to be blunt, a little long in the tooth."

"So, she's a mature woman. What does her age have to do with anything?" a second, older woman on the committee said indignantly.

"It isn't so much her age that I was commenting on," the burly man began, leaning back in his chair. "I was referring to the fact that, for news conferences or the social pages of the Post, if she gets caught in a picture at a State function, not to mention the publicity photos that are bound to be taken of the first female JAG, she isn't putting our best looking woman forward."

"Are her looks really going to play a part in your decision? She's going to be the next Judge Advocate General, not America's next supermodel. So, if she doesn't meet your requirements in the looks department, get over it," the older woman spat at him.

"Like it or not, he does have a point. I read a study that someone did about on-air personalities such as the ones who give us the news and weather. They found that both men and women tend to believe a good-looking man or woman more easily, and a good personality that came through on screen was second. If this Admiral Krennick isn't personable, which I didn't hear anyone disagree that she isn't, then based on the findings of that study, I'd have to say that good-looking would definitely help her with credibility among the masses," the youngest and male member of the committee offered up on his colleague's behalf.

The oldest member of the committee, a white-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses and a thin face, spoke, "If we're giving the job to a good-looking woman, what about that Colonel MacKenzie? I saw her on TV some time back and I'd believe anything she said...if I heard any of it," he chuckled.

"Colonel MacKenzie's retired and isn't eligible for the position," the SecNav said with a touch of aggravation.

"The three candidates who we agreed to consider at our last meeting are Admiral Krennick, Captain Plummer and Captain Rabb," the SecNav added.

"I think that we should take a vote first. If we have a majority in favor of one candidate, then further discussion isn't necessary," the dark-haired female suggested.

"I disagree. I don't want to vote until I've heard more about the candidates," the older woman said.

Twenty minutes later, the debate on whether to take a vote or to discuss the candidates first came to an end, and the voting began.

**1140**

"Since we have a split decision, we'll discuss each candidate. I think that we should start with Captain Plummer and then take a break for lunch," SecNav Sheffield stated, knowing that, once the committee had come back from lunch, they'd remember very little about what had been said about him.

Sheffield had read studies about human behavior, too. It was must-read material for someone who needed to read people. So it was a strategic move on his part to discuss Plummer first and before lunch.

Plummer was a well-qualified candidate, and though Krennick was too, she had a strike against her with most members of this group because she was a woman. With the Presidential election now just weeks away, Sheffield didn't believe that the committee was ready to appoint the first female JAG, and by discussing Rabb last or at least after lunch, his credentials would be freshest in their minds when they were ready to vote again.

"I think that we should review the qualifications of all three candidates and then take a lunch break. That way we'll have time to mull over the information. When we return from the lunch break, we can take a vote," the oldest member of the committee suggested.

That wasn't what Sheffield wanted, but after the others agreed, the SecNav had to go along with their decision, and the committee began to review the facts on the three candidates: current Deputy JAG, Admiral Allison Krennick, Captain Floyd Plummer, currently the CO of RLSO (Regional Legal Services Office) Hawaii, based in Pearl Harbor, and Captain Harmon Rabb, Jr., currently on the staff of the Secretary of Navy at the Pentagon.

**MAC'S ROOM**

**BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER**

**BETHESDA, MD**

**1330**

"Is it okay to come in?" Harriet said softly as she cautiously pushed open the door to Mac's room, not wanting to disturb mother or child if they were sleeping.

Harm got to his feet and moved towards the door, putting him in Harriet's line of sight and momentarily blocking Mac from her view.

"Yes, come in, Harriet. She just finished eating, so your timing is perfect," Harm answered as Mac covered up. Patty had literally just finished nursing.

"Yes, Harriet, come in and meet our girl," Mac said, letting Harm know that she was ready to greet her visitor.

Harm stepped aside, giving Harriet a clear view of Mac, who'd lifted their baby girl at an angle so that Harriet could see her face.

"Harriet, we'd like for you to meet Sarah Patricia Rabb," Mac said proudly."

"Sarah?" Harriet said like a question, knowing that this baby would make the third Sarah in their family and remembering her own Sarah, as well.

"Yes, but Harm and I have agreed to call her Patty to avoid confusion at home," Mac said before she remembered Harriet's loss. "Oh, Harriet, I hadn't thought about how you'd feel about us naming her Sarah. If it would be too painful for you, we can choose a different name."

"Oh, don't be silly. My Sarah will always live in my heart, but she's your daughter, and the name Sarah is perfect for her. She's absolutely beautiful," Harriet cooed.

"Thank you. Would you like to hold her?" Mac asked with a tilt of her head, knowing the answer.

"Of course, I would..." Harriet said with a big smile. "...if you don't mind," Harriet added, already scanning for the sink in the room to wash her hands - four kids, so she knew the hospital drill.

Moments later,Harriet was sitting in the chair next to Mac's bed, holding the newest Rabb addition.

"She's so tiny," Harriet commented, looking down at the sleeping little bundle in her arms.

"You know what they say….good things come in small packages," Harm said with pride.

Mac eyed her husband with a 'it wasn't an insult, proud papa' look, but spoke to Harriet, who was too focused on Patty to see the exchange of looks between Harm and Mac.

"She is small, much smaller than Matthew was, but given that she arrived six weeks early, her doctor is pleased with her size, and though we were having some trouble with breast-feeding, she has been getting my breast milk since she was born and she's gained most of the weight that babies normally drop after birth, and it's very possible that she and I will be going home together in the next couple of days," Mac informed her friend, knowing that, as a mother herself, Harriet would understand the rollercoaster of emotions that she'd been feeling these last few days.

Sensing that Mac would probably benefit from a little woman-to-woman talk with a friend, Harm made a statement to announce his intention to exit the room, giving the two ladies privacy to speak openly.

"I'm going to step out and call home…let the family know that, since Patty will be spending the night in-room for the first time, I'm going to be staying here tonight."

"You should call Bud, too...see if they've heard anything from the Hill about who'll be the next JAG," Mac suggested.

**TWENTY MINUTES LATER**

Harm returned to Mac's room to find that Harriet was gone and that his wife and baby were asleep, or at least he thought that they both were, but as he stood frozen near the door, wondering if he should stay in the room or go back out to keep from waking his girls, Mac's eyes opened and she spoke.

"Any word yet on the committee's decision?" Mac asked in a sleepy voice.

"The scuttlebutt is that no decision was reached this morning and that they reconvened about half an hour ago after taking a break for lunch," Harm said, moving towards her bedside.

Taking her hand in his, Harm asked, "How did your visit with Harriet go?"

Realizing that it might sound as if he were trying to get information about their 'girl talk' Harm added, "I ask because I talked to Mattie, and she's on her way into town from school and wants to come by to see you and to meet her baby sister. Mom has been here to see you and check on the baby when she was still in the NICU, but now that her namesake is in-room, she wants to hold Patty, and Frank wants to come to meet his new granddaughter, but only if your visit with Harriet wasn't too taxing on you and you're feeling up to more visitors today."

"Why don't you go call them back while I take a nap? After a nap, I'll be ready for company."

"Okay," Harm said before giving his wife a quick kiss.

After the kiss, Harm released his wife's hand, but before he stepped away from the bed, Mac had one request.

"When you talk to your mom, will you ask her to bring our other children with them to visit? I miss them, and since you've said that they've been wanting to see me, and I'll be in the hospital for another day or two... I know that our children can be a handful, but if it isn't too much trouble for your parents, I'd really like to see them."

"You get some rest, and I'll go call Mom," Harm said with a tired smile.

Mac didn't say anything in response. She just nodded in acknowledgement as she yawned.

**MEETING ROOM**

**CAPITOL HILL**

**1630**

Secretary of the Navy Sheffield wasn't pleased with the way that the conversation was going, though he couldn't argue with the logic of the old-timer in the room that, by appointing the current Deputy JAG to the position of JAG just weeks before the election, it might show the American public that the current administration was more open to change than many people believed and that it might help the Republican Party in the coming election**. **

So much for getting this over with and being released early today, several of the committee members thought as the current round of heated discussion was brought to an end.

Having lobbied all he dared so as not to upset his political allies, Secretary Sheffield decided to let the chips fall where they may as the voting began on what would be the final vote for today.

Only the final tally would let them know if they'd reached a decision.

**MAC'S ROOM**

**BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER**

**BETHESDA, MD**

**1800**

"Mister Secretary," Harm said, jumping to his feet, more than a little surprised to see the SecNav at the hospital.

"I wanted to stop by and offer my congratulations on your new additon," Edward Sheffield explained.

The SecNav sounded sincere, but there had to be something else on his mind. 'The SecNav hasn't come just to offer his good wishes. He has news about the appointment,' Harm thought.

"Thank you, Sir," Mac replied, a little embrassed that the SecNav was seeing her looking like this, but wanting to be polite.

"Yes, thank you, Sir," Harm echoed.

Before Harm could ask a question, the door opened and his mother walked in, smiling from ear-to-ear, but quickly reining in her giddy grin before speaking. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you already had company. I'll just wait outside," Trish said before she turned to leave.

"Not necessary, Ma'am. I was just leaving," Sheffield said.

Mister Secretary, I'd like to introduce my mother, Trish Burnett. Mom, this is Secretary of the Navy Sheffield."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," the SecNav replied formally.

"It's an honor, Sir," Trish responded in kind.

"Well, I must be on my way," Sheffield said as he moved towards the door.

"I'll walk you out, Sir," Harm said, moving in the same direction.

"It was good to see you, Colonel," Sheffield said just before he stepped through the doorway.

"You, too, Sir," Mac replied before turning her attention to Trish so that she could inquire where her children were since Harm had said that she'd agreed to bring them.

Harm and the SecNav stepped out into the hall, and while Sheffield delivered the news to Harm of who was going to be the next JAG, Trish was inside informing Mac of the whereabouts of her children.

Trish explained that Frank had dropped her off at the hospital entrance so that she could come up first to be sure that Mac wasn't in the middle of nursing while he parked the car, and that Ty and Abigail would be coming up with Frank any minute.

Though Harm's grandmother was eager to meet the child who her grandson had told her was named after her, she'd thought that too many visitors, especially one who hadn't yet celebrated his first birthday, might be more than Mac could handle at one time, so she'd stayed at home with Matthew.

Harm came back into the room in time to hear his mother tell Mac why Sami wasn't with them.

"...and Sami refused to come. She said that she didn't want to see the baby. I think that you being so upset when you left the house in labor has her a little scared for your well-being, dear. We tried to coax her into coming to see that you were all right, but she was having none of it and just started to cry until Sarah said that she could stay at home with her and Matthew."

Mac was listening to her mother-in-law, but the moment that Harm stepped back into the room, she looked towards him. The silent question exchanged between them was, 'Did the SecNav come to congratulate you on your new position as JAG?'

Harm just mouthed the word 'later' in answer to her unspoken question.

Since his mother was at the bassinet staring down at her new granddaughter, she was unaware of the non-verbal communication between her son and his wife.

Just then the door opened, and Ty, Abigail and Frank entered the room.

"Momma!" Ty exclaimed excitedly, standing away from the bed because Grandpa had said that Momma's belly was really sore, even more than when she'd had Matthew.

With two of their children and Harm's parents present, Mac agreed that it wasn't the time to talk about what the SecNav had told her husband.

"Ty...Abigail, I'm so glad to see you. Come closer and give me a hug," Mac said, tearing up.

"Gently, though, Mom's still..." Harm let his words trail off as his wife wrapped her arms around Ty and Abigail, group hug style.

**1843**

After her family had visited, or most of it since Mattie had arrived a few minutes after the others had gone, Mac was exhausted, not only from the excitement of seeing her children for the first time in several days, but from a successful day of nursing Patty. However, none of that stopped her from having another little girl on her mind.

"I know that you said that you were going to stay here tonight, but if Sami is so distressed that she dissolved into tears about coming to see me, you should go home tonight and talk to her. Tell her that I'm fine and see if you can get her to come with you in the morning to visit me."

Harm took Mac's hand in his.

"There's no reason why I can't stay here tonight. I'm sure that Ty and Abigail will tell Sami that you're fine when they get home, and that should help. I'll go home in the morning, at least to shower and change, and I'll talk to her then, but tonight I need to be here with you." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Why don't you try to get some rest before our baby girl is ready to eat again?"

Mac nodded, closed her eyes and let the sleep that she very much needed claim her.

**1945**

Mac woke to the soft voice of her husband and the tiny cry of her baby.

"Momma, Daddy hates to wake you, but though Daddy can change my diaper, he can't feed me, so I need my momma."

Mac opened her eyes.

As tired as she was, having not been able to nurse Patty for the first three days of her life, Mac found that the energy to move was something that she didn't have to dig very deep to find.

"Give Momma a minute to get situated, baby girl, and I'll feed you," Mac said as she pushed the button on the rail to position the slant of the bed to a more upright position for breast-feeding.

Once Mac had herself positioned, Harm settled Patty into her arms.

All of Mac's attention was on her baby until Patty was settled in and suckling at her breast. Then she looked over at her husband who'd taken a seat in the chair next to her bed.

"I'm sorry that I was so tired that I dozed off after the family left. I really wanted to find out about our surprise visitor. I find it unusual that the SecNav would just drop by the hospital to congratulate us on the baby. So, tell me, did he come here for any reason other than to congratulate us on our daughter?"

"He said that he felt that since he'd recommended me for the job that I should hear it from him that the committee's decision was to promote...


	3. Chapter 3

**PART ****THREE**

**MONDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2008**

**OFFICE OF THE JUDGE ADVOCATE GENERAL**

**JAG HQ**

**FALLS CHURCH, VA**

**0730**

Rear Admiral Allison Krennick sat in the black leather, wingback chair with a wide smile on her face.

Her official swearing in wouldn't take place for a couple of weeks so that arrangements could be made for a ceremony that was fitting for not only a high-ranking military officer taking a prestigious new position, but one that would allow all of the various forms of media to witness the first female JAG take office.

With two years left before she'd have put in thirty years in the Navy, her accomplishment of becoming the first female JAG had happened later in her career than she'd planned, but she had achieved her goal.

Whether she held the position for the next two years or she pushed the limits of good sense and stayed in longer than thirty years remained to be seen, but she was going to relish every minute of her new position.

She sighed as she thought of the only negative aspect of her appointment. She hadn't had any say in who would be the next Deputy JAG.

As the next person in line for her new title, the person who held the Deputy JAG position was critical to her success ... or failure, if the selectee worked against her.

She'd never worked with the committee's selection, Captain Floyd Plummer, so she decided that her first order of business today would be to read his service record and find out what she could about him before she found the proverbial knife in her back.

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1100 **

Harm had hoped that Mac would bereleased a couple of days ago so that she could spend time over the weekend with their children who'd missed her so much while she'd been in the hospital.

However, toting the carrier containing his doll-sized baby girl in one hand with his other arm wrapped loosely around his wife, offering her support as she moved slowly into the house, Harm believed that her being released today while Mattie was back at college and Ty and Abigail were at school may have been a godsend.

Though Mac felt drained from the car ride and the walk from the car to the living room, after a week in the hospital, she was glad to be home.

"I'm sorry, Harm. I know that I said that I'd like to lie down for a bit, but I need to rest for a minute before I can make it to our bedroom," she said, shaking her head in disbelief at how weak she was feeling.

"No problem...and no reason to apologize. You just got out of the hospital after having a baby and surgery. Do you want to sit on the couch or the chair?" Harm asked dotingly.

"Chair, couch sits too low," Mac said, taking a breath before taking the first of several steps needed to make it to the chair.

As Mac eased herself down into the chair, she commented, "I don't remember being this tired and sore after Matthew."

"That's because you didn't have surgery after having him," Grandma Rabb said from the doorway where she was entering the room. "I thought that I heard you come in. Can I get you anything, Sarah?"

"No, thank you. I'm just making a pit stop here to rest before going to bed for a nap." The silliness of having to rest in order to nap made her chuckle at her own statement.

"Rest here all you want...gives me a chance to meet my new great granddaughter," Grandma Rabb said while bending down to take her first look at the newest Rabb.

"Time check, Mac. How long did it take her before she was wanted to get her hands on the baby?" Harm chuckled as he placed the carrier down on the coffee table so that he wouldn't have to bend over so far to remove Patty.

With the baby carrier safely put down, Harm's grandmother swatted him across the arm. "Now, you stop that, Harmon. You know full well that I've waited for a week. I just thought that Mac needed her rest more than she needed visitors showing up to fuss over the little one."

"I appreciate the thought, but you could've come," Mac commented as Harm lifted the tiny girl from her carrier.

As Harm placed his daughter in her arms, Grandma Rabb's eyes quickly traveled from her grandson's face to what must be the smallest baby that she'd ever seen.

Harm admired the pink dress and white booties that his mother had sent to the hospital with him in preemie size for her namesake to wear home as he straightened the white ribbon and white lace-trimmed dress so that the fabric was no longer folded over itself in places.

Mac had packed a dress for Patty in her 'going to the hospital bag' for their baby to wear home, but its newborn size had been far too big for her tiny frame, so Harm was glad that his mother had gone shopping that one time and had asked him take the outfit that Patty was wearing to the hospital with him several days ago to dress Patty in to bring her home ... if its use wouldn't upset Mac.

"She looks just like a little doll. Her size, even her dress is perfect," Harm's grandmother commented.

"Trish got her that dress," Mac commented. Though she wasn't upset that her daughter was wearing the dress that her mother-in-law had purchased, she was disappointed that the one that she'd picked out had been far too big, and that Patty, instead of wearing it home from the hospital, would have to wear it when she got a little larger.

"I told Mac that naming her after my mom might have been a mistake. Mom's already gone shopping three times for baby things. This little girl is going to be so spoiled," Harm commented.

"Make it four. She and Frank went out again on Saturday morning," Grandma Rabb began as she settled the baby against her chest before sitting down on the couch with her. "That's when they bought the surprises for Mac that are in your room. They set them up before they left a little while ago."

"Surprises for me?" Mac questioned, but she suspected that Grandma Rabb didn't hear her since Harm spoke at the same time.

"I called to tell them that we were on our way home. Why did they leave?" Harm asked. "Tell me that she didn't go shopping again," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Your mom and Frank took Matthew and Sami to get some lunch so that Mac would have a few minutes of peace and quiet to get herself and Patty settled. They said that they'd be back around noon so that Matthew could take his nap. That way, Mac could have some time with Sami before Matthew wakes up and Ty and Abigail get home from school."

"I hadn't given it much thought, but I guess, especially for Mac's first day home, it would be best for her to spend some time with the younger children one at a time since it's harder to explain to them about taking it easy around her," Harm said, expressing his thoughts out loud rather than really addressing anyone.

"As for your surprises, Sarah, they won't be surprises if I tell you. You'll see them when you get in there," Grandma Rabb explained.

"Harm, I think that I'd be ready to move again if I had something to drink. Would you go get a glass of water for me, please?"

"Sure," Harm said happily, willing to take care of his wife in whatever way he could and feeling confidant that his grandmother wouldn't spill the beans while he was out of the room about the surprises awaiting her...them, really, since he had no clue about what they'd set up in their room while he'd been at the hospital this morning.

Harm left the room, and his grandmother didn't miss a beat. Staring down at the baby in her arms, she said, "Don't ask me to tell or give you any clues. I'm not talking."

"What?" Mac asked, confused, but a moment later she realized to what the woman had been referring, but that hadn't been the reason why Mac had wanted the time with his grandmother while Harm was out of the room.

"No, Grandma, I wasn't going to ask you about that. I wanted to talk to you about Harm."

Grandma Rabb, hearing the concern in the younger Sarah Rabb's voice, moved her eyes from the baby to her. "What about him, dear?"

"Has he talked to you? Is he okay?" Mac asked of the only woman, other than herself, who she thought that her husband might confide in about his feelings.

"He hasn't said anything to me. I know that he's tired. Is that what you mean?" Harm's grandmother asked with concern.

Mac shook her head. "No, that isn't what I mean. I thought maybe he'd talked to you about how he's feeling about not being selected to be the next JAG."

"Not a word about it to me, but he doesn't talk to me about how he feels about much of anything. I have to weasel it out of him. Hasn't he talked to you about it?"

********FLASHBACK********

Having awakened from a nap and after settling her baby at her breast for nursing, Mac inquired about a visitor who'd dropped by earlier that evening.

"I'm sorry that I was so tired that I dozed off after the family left. I really wanted to find out about our surprise visitor. I find it unusual that the SecNav would just drop by the hospital to congratulate us on the baby. So, tell me, did he come here for any reason other than to congratulate us on our daughter?"

"He said that he felt that since he'd recommended me for the job that I should hear it from him that the committee's decision was to promote the current Deputy JAG. So, the Navy has their first female JAG."

"Admiral Krennick is the new JAG?" Mac all but whispered. She was in shock. She didn't think that she'd live to see a female in that office.

"Yes, she is, and they've decided to promote and appoint Captain Floyd Plummer, who is currently the CO of the RLSO at Pearl to be the next Deputy JAG."

"How do you feel about their decisions?"

"Do you mean am I going to put in for retirement?"

"Yes, for one thing," Mac replied.

"I told the SecNav that it wasn't about becoming the next JAG and that if I wasn't appointed, I intended to stay in the Navy. I haven't changed my mind. So, no, I'm not going to retire. However, I think that the SecNav is feeling a little guilty about all but promising me the job and then having to tell me that I didn't get it. So, if there's anywhere that you'd like to be stationed after my assignment here is up in a few months, let me know. I'll bet that a simple comment to him in passing would secure me my dream duty station."

"How about Hawaii?" Mac asked with a chuckle.

If that's your decision, I'll work on getting my orders there once I get back to the office when my leave is up."

********END FLASHBACK*******

Having reviewed their conversation of Friday night at the hospital in her mind, Mac answered his grandmother's question.

"He told me that he wasn't going to get the position and that he hadn't been selected as the new Deputy JAG either, but he hasn't said anything to me about how he feels about their decisions."

"He's still in the euphoric state of being the father of this precious little girl..." After hazzarding a glance at the sleeping newborn, Grandma Rabb continued, "...and given the circumstances of her arrival, he may think that feeling anything other than grateful that his wife and daughter are alive is pointless." After pausing for a moment, she added, "If it'll make you feel better, I'll talk to him about it."

"If you don't mind..." Mac began, but Harm entering the room caused her to trail off in mid-sentence.

"Here's your water. Do you need anything else?" Harm asked as he made quick strides over to his wife.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you," Mac said, taking the offered glass.

"Harm, Sarah was just saying that, if I didn't mind letting go of our little angel, she was just about ready to go to the bedroom to see what surprises your mother and Frank have for her before she takes a little nap. So, if you could take Patty here... I can sit down with her, but I'm afraid that, at my age, I need both hands to get up."

Harm turned to do as his grandmother had requested, leaving his back to Mac, who mouthed a "thank you" to the older Sarah Rabb for 'covering' if Harm had heard the comment that she'd been making when he'd entered the room.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**MINUTES LATER**

Mac was drawn to the bassinet the moment that she walked into the room. She moved towards it, missing the other new item in the room to look more closely at it.

Mac scanned the details of the white wood piece of furniture with pink linens that had a butterfly musical mobile hanging above it.

"Look, Patty, you've got a bed in Momma and Daddy's room," Harm said to the baby in his arms as he came up to stand behind his wife at the bassinet.

"Your mother knew that you didn't have one in your home for Matthew, but since Sarah's had surgery, she thought that it might make it easier for her to have Patty in here, at least for a few weeks until she's recovered. After that, you can move it to another room, such as the living room, so that she can have someplace to nap and still be with the family," Grandma Rabb explained on behalf of the gift givers who weren't home yet.

"It's beautiful," Mac said softly as her tears began to flow.

"There's one more thing," Grandma Rabb said, causing Harm and Mac to turn to face her.

She was standing next to Harm's dresser, on top of which was a new flat screen TV and DVD player.

"They know that Harm went without a TV for years, but he's used to having one in the house now, and they were just trying to give Sarah some creature comforts in here while she's recuperating. We were also thinking that, with the DVD player in here, while the older children are at school, Sami and Matthew might like to watch a movie with Momma in here a morning or two a week while she's recovering. When Sarah is feeling better, no one will have hurt feelings if you move the TV to the guest room or give it to Mattie."

"This is all so nice and thoughtful of you. Thank you," Mac said, embracing the aging woman.

Careful not to hurt her granddaughter-in-law, she wrapped her arms around her and hugged her gently, whispering to her, "You're welcome, dear."

When the two women separated, Grandma Rabb had a suggestion. "Why don't I let Harm get his two girls settled into bed? I'm sure that Trish and Frank will be home soon, and you'll need to be rested before you greet those two balls of energy who will be coming home with them."

**CO'S OFFICE **

**RLSO (Regional Legal Services Office) **

**PEARL HARBOR, HA **

**0930 (LOCAL TIME) - 1330 (EASTERN TIME)**

Captain Floyd Plummer had received the news that he'd been selected to be the next Deputy JAG - next in line to the throne, so to speak - at 0900 local time and had been fielding congratulatory calls for the last thirty minutes, but now it was time for him to place a call.

It was a call to someone who the news of his promotion was going to effect almost as much as it was going to effect his life.

"Hello, Rhonda, I'm calling because I have some news that I hope that you'll think is as great as I do."

**KITCHEN **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**SAME TIME**

"I guess that you were right, Mom," Harm said as he entered the kitchen. "Sami must have just been anxious about Mac's condition because of how nervous everyone was the night that I had to take her to the hospital because, after taking a nap in bed with Mac, she's all smiles now."

"With Matthew in there now, too, do you think that it's too much for Mac?" Trish asked her son.

"They're all fine at the moment. Sami and Matthew have completely taken over my side of the bed and are watching a movie with her. Mac did ask me to come in to get Matthew in about thirty minutes." Concern immediately springing to Trish's face, Harm explained. "When she nursed Patty earlier, he wanted to nurse, too, and, though before she went to the hospital to have Patty she was still nursing him once at bedtime, she hasn't been really breast-feeding him for months, so she doesn't know if it's a good idea to let him nurse again."

"Then why don't you come sit and have tea with us to relax a little before she needs you?" His grandmother asked so sweetly that it should have been his clue that she had an agenda.

"Where's Frank?" Harm asked.

"He's lying down. I think this week of running after his grandchildren has caught up with him," Trish answered with a laugh. She wasn't lying. She'd just left out the part that when Sarah had said that she wanted to talk to Harm, and Trish had agreed to sit in so that it wouldn't seemed so staged, Frank had wanted no part of it and had gone to lie down.

"Then I guess that I'll keep you ladies company," Harm said, dropping his tall frame into a chair at the table.

Once they'd served him a cup of tea, the conversation started out innocently enough by them talking about how little and beautiful his new little girl was. However, within minutes of him sitting down with them, his mother turned the conversation in a new direction.

"I meant to tell you earlier, but Harriet called yesterday afternoon, dear, to offer her condolences on you not being selected as the next JAG. She said that Bud was really disappointed. He'd been really hoping to be able to work with you again," Trish said as if she were merely relating a phone message.

His mother wasn't as good at ambushing as his grandmother was, so now Harm was suspicious that, whether by his wife's orders or out of his mother or grandmother's concern for him, this afternoon's tea was a set up.

"I guess that I should add my condolences, too," Harm's grandmother said before adding, "That is, if you feel badly for not having been appointed to the position."

Yes, her comments confirmed his suspicions.

"No consoling is necessary. I'm fine with their decision," Harm answered firmly.

"Aren't you at least disappointed that you not only didn't get the JAG position, but that you weren't appointed to the Deputy JAG position either?"

"I guess I am a little disappointed. Being appointed to either position would have kept us here close to our friends. Not getting either position means that I'll have to pack up everyone and move them again in a few months," Harm explained.

"I hope that you get to go someplace warmer because I must say that, before your transfer here, I was looking forward to wintering in San Diego again this year," Grandma Rabb commented with a laugh.

His mother added, "Speaking of San Diego, it would be wonderful if you got stationed there again...and it might turn out to be a good move for the children since you already have a home there."

"That's true," Harm agreed, making a mental note to ask Mac how serious she was about going to Hawaii.

"That was selfish of me, dear. I'm sorry," Trish said apologizing. "You do what's best for you. If you know why you weren't selected and you get the opportunity to take a billet where you'll be recognized as a person who's perfect for the job, then you should take it no matter where it is. I know that your wife will move with you anywhere. She loves you very much."

"I know she does." He sighed. "That's why I don't want to tell her why I wasn't selected."

Harm didn't know why he'd let go of that tidbit of information to his mother and grandmother, but it was out now, and he couldn't take it back.

"Mac is the reason why you didn't get the position?" his mother questioned.

"Not exactly, but I can see how she'd take it like that, and with just having had the baby and the surgery...just everything that she's been through, I don't want her to think that for even one second."

"Why would she think that she's responsible?" Harm's grandmother asked.

"Don't get me wrong, I think that the much bigger reason why I wasn't appointed to be the new JAG is all about politics. They wanted to show that the current administration was forward thinking, and to get a better turnout among women at the polls this election, they wanted to promote a woman, the first woman to ever hold the position." Harm took a breath. "However, I was told that the number one reason why I wasn't selected to be JAG or the Deputy JAG was because I haven't served long enough in a command position."

"I'm sorry, Harm, but why would Mac think that it was her fault?" Trish asked.

"Because I left the prestigious position as Force Judge Advocate Europe that would probably have made me a shoo-in for the job because I wanted to be stationed closer to my wife."

Harm heard a collective, "Oh."

"Do you blame her for losing out on the promotion?" his mother asked.

"No, of course not," Harm answered somewhat indignantly.

"Do you regret your decision to leave the post in Europe?" his grandmother asked.

"Grandma, I don't regret any of the decisions that I've made that have brought me to this point in my life where Mac is my wife and we have a family."

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2130**

Harm quietly opened the door. He didn't know if Mac and Patty were sleeping and, if they were, he didn't want to wake them.

Once the door was open more than a small crack, he found that he hadn't needed to be so careful. The night table light was on, and Mac was sitting up with Patty snuggled close to her breast.

There must have been a look of apology for interrupting that came across his face, because Mac was the first one to speak.

"We're finished. She's sleeping," Mac whispered to keep from waking their baby.

Harm closed the door and moved quietly to them.

Having reached Mac's side of the bed and figuring that his wife's hesitation for putting their daughter in her bed was that she didn't want to move, given her discomfort from the surgery, Harm offered, "I'll take her for you."

"Not yet...I want to hold her for a few more minutes, okay?" Mac said softly.

"No problem," Harm replied as he stepped away from the bed.

After toeing off his shoes and pulling off his shirt, he moved to his side of the bed.

Carefully, so as not to jar his wife, he lowered himself onto the mattress and turned towards his wife and daughter.

Leaning against a pillow propped against the headboard, Harm began to eye his sleeping daughter.

After a moment, his arm slipped around his wife's back, and he scooted a little closer.

The three of them sat there in silence for nearly a minute before Harm spoke.

"I think that your first day home has gone well," Harm commented softly.

"Between me eating, napping and nursing, I'm not sure that I was good company for anyone, but it was so nice to spend time with my children, even if it was just letting them watch a movie in here with me. Your parents were so thoughtful in thinking of that and setting it all up for me. I don't know what we'd do if they weren't here to help out," Mac said with a sigh.

"I'm sure that we'd manage," Harm replied before placing a kiss at her temple. "It's funny that you mentioned them being around, though. This afternoon, my mom and grandmother were talking about how nice it would be to have us back in San Diego."

"It would be nice to be close to them and yet have our own place, wouldn't it?" Mac said with another sigh.

Though she appreciated all their help, she liked it better when she had her immediate family to look after and they just stopped by, rather than having them living under the same roof. Sometimes she felt as if this wasn't her home with them here.

"Are you telling me that I should change our number one choice of a new duty station from Hawaii to San Diego?" Harm asked.

"I'm not telling you to do anything. I was just pointing out one advantage of a San Diego assignment," Mac replied coyly.


	4. Chapter 4

**PART FOUR**

**TUESDAY, OCTOBER 14, 2008**

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0715**

Standing in uniform in his living room after two weeks of emergency leave and a day off for the Columbus Day holiday yesterday, Harm was filled with conflicted feelings.

On the one hand, he was looking forward to going back to work. However, at the moment, a larger part of him didn't want to leave his wife, who'd nearly died two weeks ago, and his precious new baby girl, who was no bigger than a doll and looked so fragile, giving him the strong urge not only to protect her as he would his other children, but to be more diligent in the task.

He wondered for a moment if his desire to stay home this morning had to do with the scare that had come with his daughter's early arrival, her size or the fact that he was concerned about how Mac was handling the news that Patty would be their last biological child, the latter reason one that he couldn't or wouldn't discuss with his wife.

Mac hadn't discussed her surgery with him, and he wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. Three years into their marriage now, and he knew that it was better for him to wait and, when she was ready or needed to talk about something, she'd bring up the subject to him.

"You ready to go, son?" Frank asked, pulling Harm out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm all set...waiting on Ty and Abigail to appear with their backpacks so that I can take them to school on my way."

"It's your first day back. If you want to go ahead and shove off, I'd be happy to drive them to school."

"It's on my way, and you and Mom have been doing more than enough. Besides, there's no time like the present for me to get back into the morning routine," he said, but before he could thank him for his offer, Frank spoke again.

"We're happy to help. We miss having you all so close. I guess we got spoiled when you got to do that tour in San Diego."

"Since I'm scheduled to be rotated out of my current assignment the first of February, Mac and I have been talking a lot during the last two weeks about where our ideal next duty station might be, and San Diego is on the list. You could have us just blocks away again in a few months," Harm explained.

"Do you think that your chances of getting orders back to San Diego are pretty good?" Frank asked.

"I'm hopeful, but just in case there isn't a slot available, Mac and I have talked about other locations," Harm replied.

"Sounds like you've got some decisions to make," Frank commented.

"I don't know that there'll be much deciding to be done. If there are no billets open for me, it won't matter where we _want_ to go."

"Where do you want to be stationed ... if you don't mind me asking?"

"San Diego is one. Pearl Harbor, Hawaii and Jacksonville, Florida round out our top three dream destinations."

"Dad, we're ready," Ty announced, bursting into the room with Abigail right behind him and ending the conversation between Harm and Frank.

"I've been waiting on you two. So, if you're ready, let's go."

"Just a second," Mac said, entering the room while carrying their baby girl. "Someone woke up to say goodbye to her daddy."

Harm wasted no time in getting over to Mac, who, though moving around better after only a week out of the hospital, was moving slowly.

Harm took Patty from Mac's arms and immediately began to speak to her.

"Did my baby girl wake up just to see Daddy off to work?"

"She must have. She isn't wet, hungry or crying, but she's wide awake."

"Daddy's going to miss you today, too," Harm informed Patty before placing a kiss on her head.

Holding his baby girl wasn't making it any easier for Harm to leave the house this morning.

Hearing the collective sigh of the two children who were growing impatient while waiting for their ride to school, Harm moved to place Patty back in Mac's arms.

"Let me get these two to school. I'll try to get home for lunch, but if I can't make it, I'll call to check on the two of you," Harm said before placing another kiss on Patty's head and one on Mac's cheek.

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**PENTAGON**

**1015**

When Frank answered the phone, he'd told Harm that Mac was in the living room, so Harm was wondering what was taking her so long to pick up as he began to tap his pen against the legal pad on his desk.

"Harm, I wasn't expecting you to call this early. What's wrong?" Mac asked in lieu of hello.

"I'm calling now because it's the first chance that I've had to call since I got in and I wanted to let you know that I won't be home for lunch today."

"You're going to be that busy? You won't be home late, too, will you?"

"No, I won't be late tonight. I'm not really that far behind, either, but I've been summoned to a meeting with the new Judge Advocate General in forty-five minutes, and since I don't know what she wants to talk about, I don't know how long I'll be in there."

"From the stories that I've heard, maybe she doesn't want to_ talk _to you."

"I'm more inclined to believe that she just wants to gloat that she's fulfilled her career goal and is the JAG, and I'm not."

"Not yet," Mac interjects.

"Yes, not yet. Thank you for your support."

"You're welcome. It might be better that you aren't going to be here for lunch."

"Why is that?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Since she and Bud were over here just Saturday, Harriet called to find out if I was feeling up to company again so soon, and if you came home, you'd probably hear more post-pregnancy stories than you'd care to over lunch."

"Sounds like I dodged a bullet then. You two have a nice visit, and I'll see you this evening."

"If that woman starts to chase you around the desk, you tell her that I'll feed her ass to the crabs," Mac added teasingly.

"Power down, Marine. You just got out of the hospital," Harm replied with a smirk that Mac couldn't see. Mac had no reason to be jealous, but he was flattered by her desire to defend his honor. "You just relax and have a good visit with Harriet. I can handle Krennick."

"You shouldn't have to _handle_ her. You wouldn't be so cavalier about this if our roles were reversed and I was going to a meeting with a man who used to ogle me."

"That's true. I'll tell you what. If she propositions me, I'll call you, and you can read her the riot act as my attorney and inform her of my intention to file harassment charges against her. How's that?"

I think that you're being condescending, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and let you tell me that you love me before I let you off the phone to go to your meeting."

"I love you," Harm said sweetly.

"I love you, too. Don't forget to call me if you need to file those charges," Mac said with a grin. "Bye."

"Bye," Harm replied, rolling his eyes.

**OFFICE OF THE JUDGE ADVOCATE GENERAL**

**JAG HQ**

**FALLS CHURCH, VA**

**1100**

Harm stepped in front of Admiral Krennick's desk and snapped to attention.

"Captain Rabb reporting as ordered, Ma'am."

"It's been a long time, Harm. At ease."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said while obeying her order.

"Damn! I think that you've become even better looking with age," she commented before motioning for him to have a seat.

Harm was glad that Mac wasn't here. It might have just gotten ugly.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he responded, but his tone gave away his discomfort with her comment.

"Don't worry, Captain. I didn't call you in here to chase you around my desk. That was the old me, the one who wanted this office and thought that you'd get here before me."

"Understood, Admiral. Then may I ask why you _did_ request for me to report to you?"

"You may, and the answer is simple, Harm. I didn't have any say in who was selected to be the new Deputy JAG, but since I was appointed to this job, I intend to keep it until I'm damned good and ready to give it up. I've done some checking, and the new Deputy seems to be a choir boy."

"Seems, Ma'am?" Harm asked when the admiral paused for a moment.

"I don't believe that any man...or woman is squeaky clean, and a man who doesn't have one black mark, blemish or even a notation in his service record makes me skeptical of his character. Some might think that I'm being paranoid, but it makes me apprehensive, given that I'm sure that some people would like nothing better than to see me fail." She paused and took a breath.

"Maybe he _is_ a good guy without designs on this office...or maybe his record is clean because someone higher up keeps it that way...or maybe he's by-the-book while in uniform, but in his off hours...who knows what he does?" She paused again.

"I couldn't control who they appointed as my Deputy, but I do have a say in who I have as my senior staff, which brings me to why I called you. I know that you're an excellent investigator and litigator. More importantly, from working with you previously, I know that I can trust you to keep my best interest in mind as your CO...as well as the Navy's, so I want _you_ on my staff."

"I'm flattered, Ma'am...but permission to speak freely, Admiral?"

**CO'S OFFICE **

**RLSO (Regional Legal Services Office) **

**PEARL HARBOR, HA **

**1243 (LOCAL TIME) - 1643 (EASTERN TIME)**

Captain Floyd Plummer had received his official orders, complete with travel and report dates earlier in the day, but had waited to call the east coast until he knew for sure that someone would be home.

"Hello, Plummer residence," the eleven-year old girl on the other end of the line said when she answered the phone.

"Hi, Kimmie."

"Daddy!" she squealed in delight.

"How was school today?"

"It was okay. Mom says that you're going to be coming to visit us?" Kim - only her daddy called her Kimmie - said the latter like a question.

"It's going to be more than a visit. The Navy is bringing Daddy home, sweetheart."

"Really! When?"

"Soon, very soon. Is your brother there? I'd like to talk to him before I talk to your mother about when I'm going to be arriving."

"Okay, Daddy. Don't hang up. I'll get him, okay?"

"I'll wait. Thanks, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you, too, Daddy."

Floyd's son came on the phone a few moments later.

"Daddy?" the boy of seven said into the phone, worried that his sister was trying to trick him. His dad didn't usually call during the week, only on the weekends.

"Yeah, it's me. I got your email telling me that you have a science project due the day before Thanksgiving. How's it coming along?"

"I haven't even started on it yet because, every time I think that I have a good idea, I can't do it by myself, and Jerry said that he'd help, but I don't want him to help me. I want you or Mom to help."

"I'd love to help you. I'll tell you what. You email me some of your ideas, and I'll look them over. When I call this weekend, we'll talk about which one we're going to do. What do you think about that?"

"You're really going to help me?" his son asked as if he wasn't sure that he could believe what his dad was saying.

"If you'll let me talk to your mom so that I can work it out with her, yes, I'm really going to help you."

"Cool! Hang on! I'll get Mom," Brandon Plummer said excitedly before dropping the phone to go get his mom.

Less than a minute later, Floyd was talking to his ex-wife.

"Floyd, Brandon's so excited that I could barely understand what he was saying. What did you say to him?"

"The only thing that I said was that I was going to help him with his science project."

"Floyd, why would you tell him that? Is it because he told you that Jerry was going to help him? I know that you weren't happy to hear that Jerry proposed, but we've had a civil divorce up to this point. Don't let the fact that I'm soon going to remarry screw that up by trying to drive a wedge between me and Jerry or me and my children. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

"Rhonda, I didn't tell him that because of anything other than the fact that I'll be there to help him this time. I got my orders this morning. My travel day is Friday, October 31st. That gives us plenty of time to work on his project before it's due. I should be allowed to help him if I'm going to be there. I'm his father, and that fact doesn't change if you marry what's his name ... and by telling me that it's going to be soon, is that your way of letting me know that you've set a date?"

"We have an idea of when we want to be married, but we'll have to see if where we want to hold the ceremony is available that weekend. I'll let you know when there's a firm date."

The Plummer marriage had been on the rocks for several months, but when her husband had received orders three years ago to Hawaii, Rhonda had made the move to Pearl Harbor with her children in the hopes of saving her marriage, but it hadn't worked out, and when she'd been offered a job in Virginia six months after their move, she'd accepted it, moved and filed for divorce shortly after that.

Though Rhonda knew that it had been difficult for her children, she'd felt blessed that her now ex-husband had been stationed far away from them for the last two years. The time apart had been the healing time that she'd needed to move on, and move on she had.

A year ago, feeling more in control of her life than ever before, she'd begun to date more, well, until six months ago when she'd met Jerry. Their attraction to each other had been immediate and their connection had been instant, convincing her that he was the man for whom she'd been waiting to come into her life to make her forget all about Floyd Plummer.

However, from the moment that Floyd had called to inform her that he was going to be stationed in the area and that he was coming back into their - her life, she'd found that she wasn't only happy that her children would have their father involved in their lives, but that she was looking forward to seeing him again as well.

**MASTER BEDROOM **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1722**

Harm had entered his home after an energy-draining first day back at work.

Having been greeted by four of his children within moments of entering the house and being informed that Mac had gone in to rest before dinner, he slipped from the room to go say hello to his wife and youngest child.

He could see that his wife was asleep, so he moved closer to the bassinet to check on Patty.

He had to resist the urge to pick up his baby girl just to tell her that her daddy was home before moving to the bed to wake his wife.

Carefully, so as not to jostle Mac and cause her pain, he sat on the side of the bed.

He leaned over and gently brushed his lips over hers.

Her eyelids fluttered.

"Mom says that dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes," he said softly, not wanting to wake Patty or startle Mac.

"Hey, Sailor, how was your first day back?" Mac asked, starting to stretch, but she didn't get very far before she felt discomfort, forcing her to stop.

The pain that she'd felt caused her to become alert quickly, and she asked, "How did your meeting with the barracuda go? Did she keep her hands to herself?"

"If you're referring to Admiral Krennick, I'd say that she's become more of a guppy than a barracuda, and yes, she kept her hands to herself. In fact, she was quite clear that she no longer wants my body. She's interested in only my mind," Harm replied with a grin.

"What exactly did she say?" Mac asked, not sure if he was trying to be cute or cryptic with his response.

"She wanted me to become the senior member of her staff," Harm replied more seriously.

"Wanted...as in you're now a member of her team so that she doesn't have to want it anymore or wanted, as in you managed to get out of it...and if it's the latter, how did you manage to talk an admiral out of what she wanted?"

"The latter, and it was easier than you might think. I just explained to her how it might look to those who appointed her and then I graciously allowed her to rescind her offer."

"Is the reason why she wanted you as a member of her staff what caused you to think that serving under her would be seen as a negative?" Mac asked, looking at him more directly now that she'd finally accomplished an upright sitting position.

"She wanted me because she trusts me. Though I do think that she could be acting a touch paranoid, I understand. I also get that, as the first female JAG, she feels the need to be cautious about her decisions, knowing that they're going to be scrutinized more so than her predecessors, and part of making decisions that won't draw fire is to surround herself with people whom she trusts will give her sound information without putting their own political agenda or career ambitions first. So her reasons for me being on her staff isn't the problem."

"I must be missing something because, what you just said sounds like a good case for you being on her staff."

"It's a good case for her to build a solid senior staff, but not with me at the head of it. I'd be the negative..._me, _personally."

Mac reached for his hand, still not understanding his reasoning.

"I explained to her how it might look to those about whom she's so worried on the Hill, who she believes want her to fail, if she had a captain heading up her senior staff, because I don't think that there's ever been an officer higher than a commander or a lieutenant colonel to ever serve as the chief of staff," Harm continued in explanation.

"Now that you say it that way, I can also see how, as one of the nominees for the position, it might seem that she was appointed just because she's a woman and that you, a man, were the one who was actually calling the shots."

"Yes, I made that point, too," Harm confirmed.

"Well, her instincts were right. She can trust you. You weren't even on her team and you were looking out for her." Mac took in a shallow breath and apprehensively asked, "Harm, I know that we talked about ideal locations for the family when your rotation here comes to an end, but if working for Krennick or moving the family to Kathmandu is best for you...for your career...you know that I trust you and I'd want you to do it, right?"

"I know," Harm replied, but there was something about the way that Mac had spoken and in her demeanor that made Harm wonder what had brought her to tell him that in such a direct manner.

After answering, Harm held eye contact with Mac and, when he saw the glossy look of tears threatening to fall, he asked, "What made you think that I didn't know that?"

"Your grandmother has already told me your reasons for not telling me, so I'm not angry with you, so please don't be angry with Harriet. She thought that I knew that the reason why you weren't appointed JAG was because of a lack of time in command..." Mac's tears started to spill over and trickle down her cheek. "...a position that you left because of me. It's my fault that you aren't the JAG, and I don't want you to reject an opportunity again for my sake."

This was the reason why he'd withheld the information from Mac in the first place.

"Mac," he said softly while lifting his hand to her face to begin to wipe away her tears. "You didn't force me to submit my request for transfer. It was my decision."

"But if you hadn't married me, you'd probably be the JAG right now," Mac said with a sniffle.

"The time in command might be the big reason, or maybe it's the only reason that they wanted known, but let's face it. There are more than a few things in my service record that might not look good in the record of the Judge Advocate General, having once shot holes in the courtroom ceiling among them. You had nothing to do with my decision to fire that weapon. So I don't know that I'd be the JAG if I hadn't married you or if I'd stayed in Naples to finish out my tour. However, I do know that, if I were to go back in time and be told that if I did either of those things that I'd never become JAG, I'd still marry you...and I'd still ask for the transfer, because I'd take being happy over being JAG any day."

"I love you," Mac said with tears in her eyes. "I'm happier than I ever thought possible, and that's because of you."

"Right back at you," Harm replied before leaning forward to give her a soft kiss.

Their lips had barely met when a whimper was heard from the basinet by the bed.

"If you'll help me up, I'm going to step into the bathroom to wash my face," Mac said.

"I can do that," Harm replied, moving to stand.

"While I'm in there, would you mind telling Patty that I'll be ready to feed her in a minute?"

"I can do that, too," Harm replied, a grin forming on his face at the thought of being able to have his baby girl to himself for at least long enough to tell her that her daddy was home.

Mac took a step towards the bathroom, but stopped and turned to see her husband lift their tiny daughter up into his arms.

"Harm, I'm happy because of you and the family that we have. That won't be changed by where we live, so I want to be clear. Wherever we go from here is your decision."

Since Harm had looked at her when she'd spoken his name, she was sure that she'd been heard, so Mac didn't wait for a response. She just turned back and headed towards her destination.

Looking down into the eyes of his newborn daughter, Harm spoke to her.

"Daddy will have to make a decision soon about where he wants to take our family next, but not right now. Tonight, Daddy just wants to enjoy being at home."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - A Halloween Mystery**

**PART ONE**

**SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25, 2008**

**KITCHEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME **

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**0645**

"Mommy," Sami squealed the moment Mac stepped into the kitchen.

"Good morning, everyone," Mac said as she embraced Sami.

Her daughter-in-law was looking well-rested this morning, something that Trish didn't want to let go unnoticed, even if today wasn't _her_ birthday.

"Good morning, dear. You look like you got some sleep last night," Trish commented.

"I did," Mac replied simply while releasing Sami from her embrace.

Mac moved to give Abigail a hug next.

"Since it's been three weeks since the surgery, I don't know if it's because I no longer wake up in pain every time I move in my sleep, because Patty's check-up two weeks after being released from the hospital went so well yesterday or if it's because Patty is sleeping three full hours at a time now, but whatever the reason, I did sleep well last night," Mac explained as she moved to hug Ty next.

"That's wonderful, dear," Grandma Rabb replied.

"Where's Dad?" Ty asked as Mac released him.

"I left him in bed. I guess that sleeping in this morning is his birthday present to himself," Mac said with a chuckle.

"He can't. He'll miss having Gee Gee's cinnamon rolls for breakfast," Ty said, sounding disappointed.

"Well, we wouldn't want him to miss them, so I'd better go wake him up...unless there's somebody else who wants to do it."

"I can," Ty said excitedly.

"I want to help wake him, too," Abigail added.

"You may both go..." Mac began as Ty got down from a stool. "...but don't be too loud. Patty is still sleeping." By the time she'd finished, she was talking over her shoulder, hoping that they'd heard her before they'd made it completely out of the room.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**SAME TIME**

"Shh, shh, baby girl," Harm said, standing in his pajamas next to the bassinet.

"I smell brewed coffee and cinnamon in the air. That means that momma followed her nose and went to the kitchen. She'll be back in a minute," Harm continued as he scooped his daughter up into his arms.

Patty was definitely a daddy's girl. Whether it was being cuddled to her daddy's chest or the sound of his voice, no matter how upset she seemed to be, he could always calm her.

Settled against his chest, Patty's cries became softer, but she didn't stop fussing.

He could always calm her, but he couldn't quiet her cries completely if she was hungry. She took after her mother that way.

"Let's go tell Momma that Daddy's girl is hungry," Harm said, smiling down at his daughter.

Harm turned to face the door, but before he could take a step towards it, the door opened and in came Ty and Abigail.

"Dad, you're already up. We wanted to be the first ones to wish you a happy birthday," Ty said.

"Yeah, we wanted to be first to say happy birthday," Abigail echoed, disappointed that they hadn't arrived in the room before Patty had awakened their dad.

"Thank you, but I'm afraid that Patty had a different plan. She wanted to be the first one to say hello to me this morning."

"That's okay. She can't talk, so we're the first ones to wish you happy birthday, right?" Ty inquired.

"Yes you are. In fact, since your mom left me sleeping to pursue breakfast, you two beat even her at wishing me a happy birthday," Harm replied.

"Are you ready for breakfast? Gee Gee is making her cinnamon rolls," Abigail announced.

"Her homemade cinnamon rolls? Well, it's either my birthday or it's Christmas," Harm joked.

"We haven't had Halloween yet, so it can't be Christmas, Dad," Ty replied, rolling his eyes.

"We haven't. Are you sure? I thought that Abigail was a princess and you were Superman," Harm teased.

"That's what we were last year," Ty said with a 'you're being silly' grin on his face as they headed down the hallway on their way to the kitchen for breakfast.

**DINING ROOM**

**0715**

This morning, Matthew's highchair had been placed next to Harm's chair at the head of the table and, after a round of Happy Birthday had been sung, for the most part off key by the other members of their family, the two birthday boys began to eat their breakfast, although their techniques were very different.

Matthew, who'd been wanting to feed himself for the last few weeks, was fed some scrambled eggs first and then had just a few precut pieces equal to less than a fourth of a roll put on his tray. He shoved the first piece into his mouth and reached for a second, clutching the gooey goodie in his hand.

Harm, on the other hand, took a bite and savored it thoroughly before giving praise to his grandmother for her fabulous cinnamon rolls.

Pacing himself through this unusually high-calorie breakfast, Harm, after taking several bites and drinking about half of his coffee, posed a question about today's activities.

"What do you have in store for us on our birthday? Are we going shopping for Halloween costumes?" Harm asked as if he were speaking for himself and Matthew.

"I wouldn't subject you to shopping on your birthday," Mac said with a chuckle. "Besides, there's no reason to shop with your grandmother here. She's making the children's costumes."

"Which reminds me, Mattie, I need for you to try on your costume. If I get the length pinned, I can hem it, and you can take it back with you tomorrow. Then you won't have to make a special trip back here to pick it up before your Halloween party on Friday," Gee Gee informed her.

"That's great, Gee Gee. Is after breakfast a good time for you?" Mattie asked.

"Fine with me," Gee Gee replied.

"You're going to a Halloween party? Who or what are you going to be?" Harm asked in a curious, fatherly way.

"Queen Guinevere," Mattie replied.

"Is someone going as King Arthur or Sir Lancelot?" Harm asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm going with Kevin, but we aren't a couple," Mattie said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not dating anyone, Harm. It's just a party. I'll tell you all about it when I see you next Saturday."

"Okay," Harm said before looking to his second oldest child and asking him what he was going to be for Halloween.

**LIVING ROOM**

**AFTER BREAKFAST**

Mac was sure that when Matt got older, his birthday would be celebrated more in accordance with what day his party was being held, saving the actual 25th of October for Harm's birthday, but this year, it was different.

Harm was turning forty-five and their son was turning one. They both deserved recognition, and though no plans had been made to keep either of them occupied all day, Mac had come up with a way to showcase each birthday without having a combined 'party' for them, a party that the older one might not want and the younger one too young to appreciate.

Since Patty had come early, Mac had once again had to rely on her in-laws to help her, but she thought that there was something to be said for the fact that it was her plan.

Harm had been served a rare treat with his grandmother's cinnamon rolls and, after breakfast, Mac ordered everyone into the living room to focus on Harm. It was time for him to get his cards and gifts before everyone went off in their own direction for the day.

**BARRACKS/DORM**

**NAVAL ACADEMY**

**ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND **

**1300**

Midshipman Chissom sat on his bunk, looking at the grade that he'd received on Thursday's test.

He was a second year student and, since school had resumed after the summer break, he'd been struggling in some of his classes, but the last four weeks had been particularly difficult.

This test hadn't been his first disappointing grade.

If it had been the only one, he might have felt differently, but in his class on Naval History, there had been four tests in the last four weeks, and this had been his fourth C.

Maybe if the average grade were in a different subject, anything other than Naval History, it would make it easier for him to face his father.

His grades in the other classes were better, but far below the expectations that his father had of him.

There was no way that he'd be able to go home for the Thanksgiving holiday next month and face his father with grades like this.

How the conversation, if that's what you'd call it, before the Thanksgiving meal would go was playing in his mind when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Chissom, where were you just now? I must have said your name ten times, at least. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, um, I'm fine. I was just thinking about something," Chissom said, slamming the offending test paper in his Naval History textbook. His roommate, Charles Kincaid, didn't need to know his business.

"What did you want?" Chissom asked.

"Since Halloween is less than a week away, some of us thought that we'd get in the spirit by checking out a couple of the places listed as haunted on the net. I wanted to know if you wanted to come."

"Who else is going?"

"I know that Ellery and I are going for sure, and Ellery is asking Henderson to go."

"If Henderson goes, you'll end up at his parents' place drinking, so I'll pass."

"Probably, but a beer or two won't hurt you. All you've been doing since school started this semester is study. Did you ever think that a night off once in a while might be good for you?"

Chissom wondered if his time wouldn't be more wisely used by studying all weekend, but his roommate and friend was right. All he'd been doing since the school year had started was study.

Remembering the C grade on the test hidden between the pages of his textbook, he wondered how much one night off could hurt. Maybe his friend and roommate was right, and going out to have a good time might help to get his head back into the game.

He could sleep in tomorrow and hit the books after a good lunch, which might be just the break in his routine that he needed to get him out of his current slump.

"When do we shove off?" Chissom asked.

"In about an hour," Kincaid replied.

**DINING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**1845**

Having opened his presents after dinner, well, his parents had opened them while he'd been more interested in playing with the paper in which they'd been wrapped, Harmon Matthew Rabb had finally gotten into the spirit of his birthday as he'd smashed his hand into the small, seven-inch, single layer cake sitting on his highchair tray.

He lifted his hand to his mouth and, after taking a bite of the icing with cake stuck to every finger, Matt shoved his little hand back down into the cake.

Clawing at the soft layer, he lifted his hand and clenched his fist, squishing the cake and icing between his fingers before taking another nibble from the sticky mess that was covering his hand.

It took Matt all of about ninety-seconds to make his way from one side of the cake to the other.

More interested in the feel of it in his fist than in its sweetness, he ate very little of it. However, the evidence of having sampled it was all over his face.

Harm, having had his fill of sweet treats for the day with breakfast, took his son to give the now one-year-old a bath while the other members of the family indulged in small slices of the cake that had been baked to serve to the family.

**BASEMENT OF MIDSHIPMAN HENDERSON'S PARENTS' HOME**

**SILVER SPRINGS, MARYLAND**

**2140**

The five midshipmen who'd been out ghost hunting had ended up in the basement of the Henderson home.

As the caps were being twisted off the third round of beers, the talk had turned to their late afternoon adventure.

"I think that we should go out after class on Halloween and see if we can see the bodies hanging from the trees in Truxton Park," Midshipman Ellery suggested.

"Yeah, we should go there near midnight to see if you can really see the witch or her victims like they say you can," Midshipman Kincaid added to the suggestion.

"I don't know. That cemetery tonight wasn't scary and neither was that house we went to. Though I did have a strange ... spooky feeling when we stopped to eat at Middleton Tavern," Midshipman Pemberton said before offering another suggestion. "Maybe we should go to someplace befitting future Naval officers for Halloween. They say that the Decatur House is haunted by Naval hero, Stephen Decatur."

"If you didn't get spooked at the house tonight, you should've stayed closer to Chissom. I swear, while I was standing next to him, I felt a chill in the air," Midshipmen Henderson teased.

Knowing that Henderson didn't particularly care for Chissom and that Chissom felt the same way about Henderson, a dislike that could be heightened by the alcohol that they were consuming, Kincaid offered a simple explanation.

"The man giving the tour said that the place was built in the 1840's. There were no such things as building codes or insulation back then. It was probably just a draft from somewhere."

"I might think that's all it was except that it didn't happen just once. Every time I walked past Chissom or stood near him while listening to our tour guide, I felt the cold, and the moment I stepped away from him, the chill was gone," Henderson countered.

"You're making that up!" Ellery retorted before taking down the last of his third beer.

"You want another one?" Henderson asked.

"We can crash here tonight, right?" Ellery asked in reply.

"Yeah, no problem. You can crash here any time. My parents are gone most of the time, and they never come down here. The combination to the lock on the cellar doors is 07-04-76, as in July 4th, 1776," Henderson informed his fellow midshipman.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**2200**

"I know that it wasn't much of a celebration, but I hope that you enjoyed your birthday," Mac said quietly as she slipped into bed. "It's going to be hard to have two of you sharing a birthday."

"I didn't do much other than relax and enjoy being with my family, so from where I'm sitting, it was a good birthday," Harm replied, genuinely happy about the day's events. "For the record, though, I'm okay with celebrating only Matthew's birthday," Harm said, slipping an arm around his wife.

"You do know that, just because you don't celebrate your birthday, you still get a year older, right?" Mac teased.

"In that case, bring on the cake and presents," Harm said with a chuckle.

Mac smiled at him.

"I love you," he whispered to her before leaning in and placing a sweet good night kiss on her lips.

"I love you, too," she whispered back as she snuggled into him, hoping that Patty hadn't been good last night just for her daddy's birthday and would let her get an equal amount of sleep tonight.

**BASEMENT OF MIDSHIPMAN HENDERSON'S PARENTS' HOME**

**SILVER SPRINGS, MARYLAND**

**2340**

Chissom and Henderson stood toe-to-toe, facing each other with their teeth clenched.

"Maybe that cold air around you today was the chill created by your superior attitude," Henderson spat out.

"Maybe it's just the hot air that you're made of that made the normal temperature around me seem cool to you, you arrogant -" Chissom countered.

"Knock it off," Midshipman Kincaid said, stepping between his roommate and their host before the former could finish his comment.

"Yeah, sit down. Have another beer," Ellery slurred, already too drunk to stand up.

"I'm leaving," Chissom said, never taking his eyes off of Henderson.

"No one here is fit to drive, and since none of us are twenty-one yet, you don't want to call a cab to take you back to school because you'll get busted, maybe even kicked out of the Academy, and you know that won't sit right with your old man. So stay here and sleep it off," Kincaid told his roommate.

"I don't want to be anywhere near him. He might slit my throat while I'm sleeping, so I think that the risk of getting caught is worth it," Chissom said angrily.

"Then think about the rest of us," Pemberton said, stepping up to back up Kincaid. "We didn't do anything to you, and if you get busted, they'll ask questions and we'll all get in trouble. So let's chalk tonight up to the beer and forget about it, okay?" Pemberton asked, looking first at Chissom and then at Henderson.

After getting affirmative nods from both men, Pemberton and Kincaid breathed a sigh of relief and suggested that they all call it a night and get some sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**PART TWO**

**FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2008**

**BARRACKS/DORM**

**NAVAL ACADEMY**

**ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND **

**1700**

Midshipman Chissom was staring into his naval history textbook when his roommate burst into the room.

"Why do you have your nose in a book? It isn't time to study. It's time to have some trick or treat fun. I've got to go make sure that Pemberton knows that we're leaving, so get a move on, Chissom. We're meeting at Ellery's car in five," Kincaid said before bolting from the room.

**ELLERY'S CAR**

**SEVEN MINUTES LATER**

Midshipmen Pemberton, Chissom and Kincaid were sitting in the back seat of Midshipman Ellery's car, leaving the passenger seat of the late-nineties sedan for Midshipman Henderson.

"I told him that we were leaving in five minutes. Where is he?" Ellery asked in an irritated tone because his roommate, Midshipman Henderson, was keeping them waiting.

"I'll go see what's keeping him," Kincaid said as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

"No need, that's him headed our way now," Ellery said, pointing to the doors of the dorm before Kincaid could get out of the car.

Henderson made it to the open passenger door of the car.

"What in the hell was taking you so long?" Ellery asked his roommate, not noticing that Henderson was already in an agitated mood.

"Get off my case. I'm here now. Let's go," Henderson said, jumping into the seat and slamming the car door closed.

**PARKING LOT**

**MIDDLETON TAVERN **

**1745**

"Since we're stopping for dinner, do you think that we're going to have enough time to check out Decatur House and make it back to Truxton Park to see the witch at midnight?" Kincaid asked.

"I know that I was late getting to the car, but we'll have time. So, quit your whining," Henderson snapped in reply.

Midshipman Ellery let the others move away from him and his roommate so that he could have a word with him before they went into the restaurant.

"There was no need to snap Kincaid's head off," Ellery stated calmly while grabbing his roommate's arm to keep him from catching up to the others.

Pulling his arm from Ellery's grasp, he snapped, "Do you think that I hurt his feelings?" Henderson added with a snort, "He'll live."

"I wouldn't think that it was right if you were talking to Chissom that way, either, but because I know that the two of you don't see eye-to-eye on much, I'd live with it, but you don't have anything against Kincaid, so what the hell is wrong with you tonight?"

"Nothing!"

Ellery knew that his roommate was being evasive. Having occurred to him that his roommate had been in a good mood when he'd left him to change in their room, Ellery posed another question to Henderson.

"Is what's up your ass have anything to do with why it took you so long to get to the car? What happened after I left our room?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. Let's catch up with the others and get this Halloween started. I could use some fun…" Henderson's voice faded as if talking to himself "…and this might be the last time that I get the chance to have any."

Ellery wasn't sure if his friend had meant for him to hear the last part, but he _had_ heard it and he was curious about what he'd meant, but for now it seemed that, in order to enjoy the night, he needed to wait to question him further.

"Then why don't I buy you a beer to go with your dinner? That should loosen up the needle on your fun meter and put you in the mood to meet some ghosts," Ellery said, patting his friend on the back as they walked towards the entrance of the restaurant.

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**1830**

"Is everyone ready to go to Aunt Harriet's?" Harm asked, looking down at a baseball player, Cinderella and an aviator.

"I thought that we were going out to trick or treat after dinner," Cinderella, more commonly known as Abigail said, sounding disappointed.

Harm wondered how many movie princesses Disney had created so that he'd know how many Halloweens it would be before Abigail either had to choose another category of costume or start over with Snow White, the costume that she'd worn last year.

"Me want to Twick or Tweat, too," the little aviator, who he usually called Sami or Ladybug, echoed with a whine.

Grandma Rabb had had a tough chore in making Samantha's costume, not with the sewing, but with the design. Gee Gee had had the idea of making a 'girlie aviator' costume, thinking Amelia Earhart, but it didn't match 'aviator bear,' and Sami had wanted to be a Navy pilot like her daddy and her bear. So a custom flight suit had soon been in the works and it had been finished just last night.

"We're just going to Aunt Harriet's to meet Uncle Bud. He and Dad are taking us out to get candy. Right, Dad?" Tyler, the baseball player informed his sisters.

"Not that I think that you need any more candy since you got some while you were at school today, but, yes, Uncle Bud and I are in charge of taking all of you kids trick or treating while Aunt Harriet hands out candy at their house," Harm replied.

"Got room for one more?" Frank asked, making his way into the living room with Matthew in his arms, though tonight, the one-year old was dressed like a pumpkin.

"How about two more? You could come with us," Harm suggested.

"Thought you'd never ask. Are we all ready to go now?" Frank questioned.

"Let's see, one…two…three...four," Harm counted, pointing to each of his children who were in the room before announcing, "The oldest is at a party, and the youngest is too young for candy, so, yes, I believe that we're ready," Harm finished.

"You aren't going anywhere until after I get a picture," Trish said before the men could make a move towards the front door.

"Oh, yes, I need a picture, too," Mac said, moving to pass Patty off to Harm. "I'm so used to Mattie being our family photographer that I didn't think of having a camera ready."

"Is Patty going to be in our picture, too? She isn't in a costume and she isn't going trick or treating with us, is she?" Abigail asked, sounding less than thrilled that the newborn could possibly be tagging along.

"No, she isn't going with us, but having her in the picture puts all of my kids in the shot. Besides, her orange Onsie may not be a costume, but it fits the occasion, so I think that she should be included, don't you?" Harm asked, trying to persuade Abigail that she should be in the picture.

"I guess," Abigail replied to her dad's question, sounding a little put out.

"The real question is, should Dad and Grandpa be in the picture or just the children?" Harm questioned, looking to his mother for an answer.

**DECATUR HOUSE**

**LAFAYETTE SQUARE**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**1920**

The tour guide counted the number of guests who were going on the last tour of the house for the night.

Heather, the part-time tour guide who was a senior college student, majoring in American History, enjoyed her job here, but it had been particularly fun to be working today.

Since she'd begun her shift at three this afternoon, she and her co-workers had been playing a Halloween trick on the visitors to Decatur House. Every half-hour, whichever one of them wasn't guiding a tour would shut off the lights in the house.

Heather was glad to be the one guiding this final tour of the evening because it was now dark outside, so, when the lights were turned off, it would be pitch black in the house. Adding to effect for this last group of the night, Tony was going to moan into the PA, and Heather knew that the added moan would give her the distinction of leading the tour that was the spookiest this Halloween.

**STUDY **

**1930**

"We're now standing in Commodore Stephen Decatur's study," Heather said into her microphone.

The lights go out.

There's a moan…

...a creak…

...the sound of someone gasping…

…a thud…

...a woman's scream...

...a creak...

… and a click.

Then the lights come back on.

It wasn't the first time that Heather and her co-workers had pulled this little Halloween prank of shutting off the lights, but this was the first time that they'd added any noises, and she'd been a little shaken up.

Heather looked a little pale, but she wasn't the only one.

Quickly shaking off her fears, assuming that Tony had amped up the creepy factor by not only moaning, but by adding the other sound effects for this last group, Heather went about giving her little pre-planned speech for when the lights came back on.

"I guess the ghost of Commodore Decatur that's said to haunt these halls is taking advantage of it being Halloween and having a little fun with us this evening, but now that he's turned the lights back on, let's continue our tour. "If you'll follow me, our next stop will be the room where the Decaturs entertained many guests, among them statesmen of the time until the Commodore's death on March 22, 1820," Heather said, moving towards the hall that would take them to the formal parlor.

"There was no reason to scream, dear. I'm sure that it was just a little Halloween humor," a middle-aged man in the group said as he turned to look at his wife.

The wife of similar age and a true believer in such things as ghosts replied in rebuttal to his claim, "I might agree with you if there had been only the noises, but when I felt the cool air, I knew that he was here."

"He?" the man questioned.

"Yes, Commodore Decatur," she answered as if it should've been obvious to him. "I wouldn't have been startled if he'd just appeared, but in the dark…with the noises, it was just spooky, and I couldn't help myself. I screamed."

"I'm sure that you would've been very calm if you'd been able to see him coming," her husband said, patting her on the arm.

She wasn't sure if he was being genuine or condescending, but she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt since she was still feeling a little shaky and, wanting to be close to him, threaded her hand around his arm as they made their way into the hallway to go into the next room.

The width of the hallway forced the group to narrow, and with room for only two people to walk side-by-side, family members and friends were separated as they made their way into a stately room, which was adorned with pieces of the period in a recreated setting of an evening gala such as would've been held at the house in the days of its grandeur.

Coming up beside Pemberton, Kincaid said, "I don't believe in ghosts, but I've got to say that cutting off the lights made it worth the price of admission. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, it was kind of cool. Do you see Henderson or Chissom?" Pemberton asked.

After scanning the room, Kincaid, replied, "No. I see Ellery over by the fireplace, but Heather said that this was the biggest group that they've ever had come through here, and it looks like there are more people coming out of the hall." He paused. "Why? You worried that a ghost might have got them?" Kincaid chuckled.

"No, with those two, it would be more likely that they got each other," Pemberton replied.

"True, but I wouldn't worry. After Henderson got a beer in him at dinner, he was fine and ready to have a good time."

**END OF THE TOUR**

**1945**

Once in awhile, a guest would linger in a particular room and get separated from the group and, on rare occasions, they wouldn't catch up, so their guide would count each person as they passed single file through the doorway to the gift shop at the end of the tour.

If the group count by the guide was one short, usually the next group would have one too many, but when it was the last group of the day, the guides wanted to make sure that no one had purposely stayed behind in hopes of spending the night in the house.

Heather stood at the doorway as the group passed through to enter the gift shop and, as she said her good nights, she counted to verify that no one had slipped away during the tour.

**BEHIND THE COUNTER**

**GIFT SHOP**

**1948**

"Charles..." Heather said, addressing her boss, a member of the Historical Society who managed the daily operations of the house. "...when I did my final count, I came up one short."

"Tony, has anyone said anything to you about someone from their party being missing?" Charles inquired, looking to his right where the other part-time student stood who was on duty tonight.

"No," Tony said, but then, because it was Halloween, he added with a teasing smile, "What's the matter, Heather? You worried that a ghost got one of our guests?"

After giving Tony a warning look about teasing Heather, Charles turned his attention back to her.

"I wouldn't worry about it. You probably just miscounted. If it'll make you feel better, the three of us will walk through the house before we leave to make sure that no one is still inside," Charles replied.

"You're right. I'm probably just a little spooked because it's Halloween," Heather stated before moving closer to Tony and whispering to him, "The agreed-on moan was one thing, but the creaking noise…how did you do that? … And was that you who grasped or someone in my group? You nearly caused that woman over there to have a stroke," she said, indicating the woman with a tilt of her head who was looking at books about the late naval hero. "After I wrapped up the tour a few moments ago, she apologized if her screaming scared off the commodore. She said that it was just spookier than she'd thought that an encounter with a ghost would be and she hadn't been prepared for it."

"I moaned, that was it," Tony replied.

"Then who…or what made the other noises?" Heather questioned, swallowing hard.

"I think that Halloween has really gone to your head. Relax," Tony replied.

"She screamed, huh? I don't think that's ever happened before." 'Cool,' Tony thought to himself, knowing that Heather wouldn't find his observation amusing at the moment.

**1955**

Charles had gone into the office to start wrapping things up for the night by counting the funds taken in for tours, leaving Tony at the counter and Heather roaming the gift shop, answering questions and assisting guests in making their purchases so that they'd be able to close up shop and leave soon.

Tony was thinking that it was looking pretty good for them to get out on time with only three lingering guests inside the gift shop at five minutes before the posted closing time.

The middle-aged couple already had a couple of items in their hands, and the stop at the postcards seemed like it was going to be their last stop.

The college-aged male looking at a book about the late Commodore Decatur was the wildcard. Since they were usually on a budget, most of the time, the college kids didn't buy anything, but they stayed forever, practically reading the entire book while they stood in the gift shop.

'So much for leaving on time,' Tony thought as another college-aged male reentered the gift shop. Judging by the haircuts and the interest in the commodore, he'd guess that they were students at the Naval Academy.

The young man who'd just entered didn't look at any of the merchandise. He just scanned the room like he was looking for someone.

Tony thought that it was a good sign that they we're going to get to leave on time when he saw the guy walk over to the other student and, after saying something to the guy with the book in his hand, they both walked towards the counter.

When the two students stepped up to the counter, Tony picked up the book that the student had said that he wanted to purchase and found it odd that the second guy was still looking around.

A momentary thought was, 'Were they planning to rob them?' This made Tony start to feel a little nervous as he completed the transaction for the purchase of the book.

As Tony started to place the now paid for book into a bag, the one who'd been making him nervous spoke, "Excuse me, but one of my buddies hasn't come out yet, and I don't see him in here. Is there a head or somewhere else that he could be?" Kincaid asked Tony.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**2000**

Harm entered the master bedroom.

"Hey," he said softly when he saw that Patty was either nursing or asleep at Mac's breast.

Mac's first response to him was to offer him a smile and then she asked, "How did trick or treating go?"

Mac's question, asked in a normal tone of voice, let Harm know that Patty was eating so that there was no reason to whisper.

"It was too much for Matthew, and he fell asleep on my shoulder about thirty minutes ago. Sami will probably be on a sugar high until at least this time tomorrow -"

"You let her eat some of her candy tonight this close to bedtime?" Mac asked in disbelief, cutting off Harm.

"No, I didn't, but when we got to the Roberts' home, Aunt Harriet had cupcakes for the kids and, though she ate only part of one before we headed out to start trick or treating, she's been a ball of sugar-driven energy since."

"Where is she now?" Mac asked.

"With Mom, who, after I convinced Sami that pilots don't sleep in their flight suits, offered to see to it that she got a bath and into her pajamas so that I could put Matthew to bed and look in on you and Patty."

"Then, since you're here, would you like to be in charge of burping her?"

"I'd love to," Harm said with a broad smile firmly in place.

"I'm sorry," Mac whispered.

"Sorry for what?" Harm asked, obviously confused by her apology.

"That her pediatrician said that he didn't think that we should give her a bottle just yet, even if it was breast-milk. I know that you'd like to be as involved in her daily care as you were with Matthew."

"There's no reason for you to apologize. She came early and, given that she didn't want to nurse at all in the beginning, I think that her pediatrician is right not to risk her developing a case of nipple confusion, which might result in her not wanting to nurse."

"It just isn't fair to you," Mac said, still sounding sorrowful.

"Maybe it isn't fair, but I'd do anything to keep my baby girl healthy and her momma happy," Harm replied while taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to his wife.

Mac got a slight blush on her cheeks and then tears started to fall.

"I love you," Mac got out in a tear-filled voice.

"I love you, too," Harm said, lifting his hand to wipe away her tears with the pad of his thumb and wishing that he could just as easily convince his wife that she'd done nothing wrong and had no reason to feel guilty.

As Harm sat there comforting his wife, he wondered if her reference to the fairness of this situation had less to do with him not being able to help more with feeding time and more to do with the post-delivery surgery that had taken away any chance of her ever having another child, considering that Patty was five weeks old now, and they still hadn't had a conversation about how she felt about having to have a partial hysterectomy.

**GIFT SHOP**

**DECATUR HOUSE**

**LAFAYETTE SQUARE**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**2235**

"We've finished searching the house, Sergeant. There's no sign of anyone," the police officer said to his field supervisor.

"I'll put a call in to get a detective and a crime scene team here, ASAP, then. In the meantime, get the names and the contact information for the three people who work here and were in the gift shop when the disappearance was reported, but have the guy's buddies stick around so that the detectives can interview them."

"Yes, Sergeant," the police officer said before leaving his supervisor to make the needed calls to get the ball rolling for a wider search.


	7. Chapter 7

**PART THREE**

**SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2008**

**OUTSIDE INTERVIEW ROOM #2**

**DETECTIVES UNIT**

**CITY POLICE HQ**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**0540**

"I don't think that we're going to get anything more out of them tonight. What do you think, Jim? Should we cut them loose?" Detective Dave Chandler asked his partner, Detective Jim Tanner.

"We definitely don't have anything that we can hold any of them on, but the fact is that we don't have any leads in this case. I mean this kid didn't just disappear without a trace!" Tanner replied, his frustration building with each word.

"Maybe it was a ghost like the woman suggested," Chandler said with a laugh.

"I know that we've been up all night, but you aren't taking that woman's statement seriously, are you?"

"No, but if we don't get something to go on, it may be the only explanation that we have," Chandler replied.

"True, so while we wait to see if either the search dogs catch his scent or the CSU team comes up with a lead for us, let's take one more shot at each of them to be sure that we've covered all the bases that we can for now."

"Sounds good to me. Which one of them do you want to start with?" Chandler said.

They'd separated the four Academy students at the station, and each were in a different room."

"It doesn't matter to me…pick a door," Tanner replied.

Chandler walked to the closest door and opened it. Then they started to question each boy again about their missing friend.

**SQUAD ROOM**

**DETECTIVES UNIT**

**CITY POLICE HQ**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**0615 **

Chandler was sitting at his desk and rubbing his temples. He was tired and he had a headache.

Tanner dropped his phone's receiver back into its cradle. "CSU didn't get anything useful to us. The dogs didn't get a scent. Where _is _this kid?"

"So there's no sign of him being in the house or having left the house. It's like he just vanished into thin air. Maybe it was a - "

"Don't you dare say that it was a ghost!" Tanner said, cutting off his partner.

"I was going to say it, but I don't believe it. I don't know what did happen, but there's got to be a rational, logical explanation," Chandler stated calmly.

"Yes, and it's our job to solve the mystery," Tanner commented before offering up what was going to be their next steps in the investigation. "The uniforms notified the boy's parents that he's missing, but I think that we should go pay them a visit. We can't rule out anything at this point, and I think that they need to understand the importance of calling us if their son shows up or if they receive a ransom demand. We also need to see if we can get access to the kid's dorm room at the Naval Academy. Maybe there's a clue as to why he'd want to fall off the face of the earth at either his parents' home or in his dorm room."

Chandler got to his feet. "Then let's go. You can tell me what you meant by 'CSU didn't get anything "useful" to us' on the way to Falls Church where the boy's parents live."

"I meant nothing that helps us now. They got plenty of fingerprints, but unless one of them matches a convicted kidnapper in the system, which would at least give us a lead, I don't see how they're going to help. According to the manager of the Decatur House, they get in the neighborhood of 10,000 visitors to the house a month. Of course, someone is going to touch something and leave their prints...even if there's a sign that requests that they don't. CSU did find some fibers on the wall behind where our witnesses all agree that the victim was last seen, but they won't have them analyzed for a couple of hours," Tanner said as the two made their way to the squad room doors.

"Older homes often have plaster instead of Sheetrock for walls. I'll bet that a guest snagged their sweater or coat on the rough surface," Chandler suggested.

"Probably, but was it some otherguest, or will the lab be able to tell us with any level of certainty that it was our disappearing midshipman?" Tanner asked before both men exited the squad room.

**SQUAD ROOM**

**DETECTIVES UNIT**

**CITY POLICE HQ**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**1147**

"You have any idea what our next move should be?" Chandler asked his partner while rubbing his tired eyes.

"We've spoken to his parents and heard the usual 'he's a good kid. No one would have a reason to hurt him,' yada, yada, yada. A search of his room at their home gave us nothing of interest," Tanner said before sighing.

"His room at the Academy was pretty clean, too," Chandler added.

"Yeah, just textbooks and clothes. His laptop was also pretty clean, but maybe the lab will be able to retrieve something that he erased from his hard drive that will give us a lead," Tanner said, leaning back in his chair.

"No ransom demand, no hits on his ATM or credit card...we don't even have anything that indicates whether he met with foul play or just ran off," Tanner continued, taking a look at his watch.

"We've been going for fourteen hours straight," Tanner said with a yawn. "We've done all that we can do for now. I say that our next move is to let them call us if the lab finds something on his computer, a ransom demand is made or someone uses one of his bank cards, and we get some sleep so that we can think straight if we get a lead."

"Sounds like a good next step," Chandler said, feeling tired himself.

**DINING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**LUNCHTIME**

**HARM'S POV**

'I wonder who could be keeping Mac on the phone,' is my thought as I strap Matthew into his highchair.

Mac had gone into the kitchen to see if she could help Grandma and Mom with lunch once she'd fed Patty. I'd heard the phone ring. I'd also heard Mac holler from the kitchen that she'd get it, but as I try to entertain Matthew who's waiting for his lunch, I'm wondering to whom she could be talking for so long.

Mac's been on the phone long enough that my mother has come out with a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches and then returned to the kitchen for the large serving bowl of soup. Frank then doled out sandwiches to each of the children before taking a seat at the table next to Ty.

My grandmother has also entered with another plate of sandwiches, but returned to retrieve her forgotten coffee cup.

'Who could she be talking to?'

'It has to be Harriet because she's the only person who I can think of who would keep Mac on the phone for going on ten minutes now.'

With Matt all strapped in and ready to start devouring his lunch, I test the sandwich that Frank had placed on a plate to cool for Matt. He wants to feed himself these days, so when the food is or can be made into finger food, we oblige him.

I cut the sandwich into several pieces to make sure that the cheese is cool enough for Matt to eat before placing them on his tray, and Matt immediately picks up one and takes a big bite.

With my children enjoying their lunch, I'm about to excuse myself to go see what's keeping Mac when my grandmother enters the dining room carrying her coffee mug and a sippy cup of milk for Matthew.

"I've got Matthew's milk, but Mac is bringing the others," my grandmother announces as she steps into the room.

"I'll go see if Mac needs any help," I offer.

"Three glasses of milk, I think that I can handle it, but thank you for offering," Mac says as she enters carrying two glasses in one hand and one in the other.

"I wasn't thinking that you couldn't handle the job. I just thought that you might need for me to bring them out because you were still on the phone," I explain.

"That was sweet of you, but there was no need this time."

"Who was on the phone?" I ask.

"Mattie," she replies, already standing beside Ty and placing his drink down in front of him.

"Isn't she coming here this weekend after all?" I ask.

"Yes, she's coming. She just called because she's usually here around lunchtime and she didn't want us to worry because she's running late. She thought that our imaginations might run away with us since we knew that she'd attended a party last night. Since she said that she was getting ready to head our way, I didn't think that I'd be on the phone that long, but she kept adding more, and I didn't want to cut her off," Mac explains as she places glasses of milk in front of Abigail and Sami.

"Is there anything that you want to let me in on now or am I going to have to wait until she gets here?" I ask as Mac takes a seat next to me, hoping that, if Mattie has any news that will be shocking to my system, Mac will give me a heads up.

"Not that she mentioned specifically. She said that she had a great time last night at the Halloween party and that she'd stayed later than she'd planned. That's why she'd slept in later than usual today. When I told her that, if she needed some more sleep, she could skip coming this weekend, she said no, that she had something that she wanted to tell us, so she'd be here later this afternoon," she says while taking her seat next to me. "Then, when I thought that she was about to end the call, she said that she almost forgot to ask if it was okay if Kevin came to dinner here on Sunday. She said that he has something that he wants to talk to you and me about," she informs me as she makes eye contact with me.

"Did she give you any hint as to what he might want to talk about with us?" I ask as Mac reaches for her sandwich.

"I'd say that Kevin wanted to ask for our approval to date our daughter, except that she asked about him coming by as more of an afterthought at the end of our conversation."

"Do you think that he's finally said something to her?" I ask.

"I don't think so, but I can tell you that Mattie sounded all dreamy on the phone, so I do believe that having fun at last night's party has something to do with a boy. However, I didn't get the feeling that Kevin's the reason."

"Then let's hope that she's talkative when she gets here and fills us in on what happened last night and about what Kevin wants to talk to us about," I state, ending the speculation on what's happened in Mattie's life since we saw her last weekend.

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**1440**

**HARM'S POV**

I hear the door open and know that, with everyone else already home, Mattie has arrived and that at least some of our questions are going to be answered.

Mattie comes into the living room, and I can see that Mac was right. She has that dazed look of a smitten teenaged girl in her eyes.

I refuse to believe that Mattie could be in love because, with love comes marriage.

I'm not ready for a son-in-law, yet, and with a five-week old baby in the house, I'm certainly not ready to go from father to grandpa!

"Hi, Harm," Mattie says with a look of adolescent delirium on her face as she scans the room.

"Hi, Mattie," Ty says, turning away from the TV screen for only as long as it takes to greet her. He's watching a documentary on space exploration.

"Mattie, you're finally here," Sami says, jumping to her feet to run and hug her, thankful for the distraction.

Sami's interest in the documentary had been over just minutes after she'd come in from her nap and had begun to watch the program.

"Hi, Sami," Mattie says enthusiastically as she embraces her.

"It's just the four of you in here? Where's everybody else?" Mattie asks.

"Abigail went to potty," Sami announces proudly.

"Yes, Abigail will be back in a minute. Frank left about an hour ago. He said that he had a few things that he wanted to do, but that he'd be back in a little while."

"He needed a break, huh?" Mattie asks, glancing at the floor where Matthew is playing and Ty is sprawled out watching television.

"Probably," I say with a chuckle before Mattie is distracted by Matthew.

"Oh my God, when did he start doing that?" Mattie asks after witnessing Matthew abandon crawling for a standing position.

"The standing part ... or the walking part?" I add the latter since he's just demonstrated the newest addition to his skills by taking two wobbly steps towards her before plopping down on his bottom.

"I can't believe it. He was standing last week, but this week he's walking." She sounds as disappointed as I imagine I'd be if I'd missed it.

"He took his first solo step last night, at least the first one that anyone saw. He took a step towards me when I came in from work last night - just like he's doing to say hello to you now. He's still pretty unsteady, so he takes only a couple of steps before he drops down on all fours and then he'll try again a minute or two later. If he feels like it's taking too long to get to where he wants to go, he'll crawl the rest of the way. So I don't think that we can really say that he's walking yet, but he's certainly working on it."

"My week just keeps getting better and better," she says with a sigh.

"You said your week, not your weekend, so something good happened before last night's party?" I inquire.

"Yes, but I want to tell everyone at the same time...after I get something to eat. I'm starving," Mattie replies as she heads for the kitchen, knowing that, though we've already had lunch here, there will be something in the kitchen for her to snack on before dinner.

"I've known you longer. Doesn't that at least entitle me to a hint?" I ask with a big smile before she leaves the room, causing her to stop and look at me.

"Okay, your hint is that I have an announcement about -"

"Mattie, you're here," Mac says, entering the living room from the direction of our bedroom and cutting off Mattie before I get my hint.

**DINING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**1455**

**MATTIE'S POV**

I've finished my snack, and Frank has just returned from whatever errand he'd been running.

With Patty napping and the other children occupied by the space documentary that was on when I came in, I've gathered the adults around the dining room table so that I can make my announcement before one of us has to leave to take Abigail to her piano lesson, which is at 1530.

Mac takes a seat next to Harm, and the eyes of my parents, grandparents and Gee Gee are on me, waiting for me to get on with it.

I didn't think that I'd be worried about whether my choice of majors would disappoint them until this moment as I look at all of their anxious faces.

"You know that I'm two months into my second year and it's time for me to decide on a major. Well, this week, I did, and I wanted to tell you what it is."

My eyes settle on the faces of Harm and Mac, who's clasped hands are now resting on the tabletop and waiting for me to finish, when I'm suddenly struck with fear.

'What if, because I didn't pick a law career, they're upset with me?' Is my first thought.

'It isn't too late. I could go to school on Monday and change my major.' Is my next thought.

'No, I just need to tell them. It's Harm and Mac. They'll understand that it's what I want to do,' I tell myself before Harm's voice breaks through my thoughts.

"And you've decided to major in..." Harm says, encouraging me to finish.

I swallow hard before speaking.

"Fine arts, photography in particular, with a minor in business management..." I say firmly, but quickly back peddle by saying, "...if it's okay with you."

"Is it what _you_ want to do?" Harm asks.

"Yes."

"Then it's okay with me," Harm responds immediately.

"I know that it's unlikely that I'll be as successful in my photography as say Annie Leibovitz, but that's why I chose business management as a minor, so I'll have something to fall back on if I can't make a living at being a photographer."

"I know that you'll do well in business management because you've already had experience in running a company. I worked for you for a while, remember?" Harm says with a big grin on his face.

"Worked for her?" Gee Gee asks with a confused look on her face.

"At Grace Aviation," Mac reminds her.

"Oh, yes, my grandson's crop dusting days, I remember now," Gee Gee replies, shaking her head.

"That's right, Gee Gee," I say, wondering if her lapse in memory is her age or a mental block that her fighter pilot grandson was once a 'crop duster'.

"Don't worry, dear, I've seen some of the pictures that you've taken of your siblings. I think that you're going to be the next Anne Geddis," Gee Gee says with a prideful smile.

"Thanks, Gee Gee..." I reply, feeling slightly embarrassed. "...but I'm hoping to be more like Ansel Adams than Geddis.

"I think that it's great that you found a way to make your interest in photography into a career," Mac chimes in.

"As your grandmother, I do get to show your work in my gallery first, don't I?" Trish asks with a devilish grin.

"Of course! You can have exclusive rights if you think that my work is good enough for your gallery," I say excitedly, both because she's being supportive and because she's offering me a wonderful opportunity.

"I think that your work will be magnificent," my grandmother says confidently.

I'm feeling relieved that everything went so well until it dawns on me that everyone is still just sitting there. It's like they're waiting for me to say something else.

"What?"

The question just came out.

It sounded so immature.

"We're waiting to hear the rest of your news," Harm says.

"That's it. Why would you think that there's more?" I ask.

"It's big news, but you said that a lot has happened to you this week and, on the phone, I got the impression that maybe you'd met someone," Mac says, letting her voice trail off.

I know that I'm blushing, which should give it away, but I also offer a verbal response, "I did."

"I don't know if I want the details of that," Harm says, his eyes darting over to Mac before they come back to me. "I was waiting to hear the reason why Kevin wants to talk to us."

"Kevin said that he wanted to talk to you about some project that he's doing for school. I don't know what it's about exactly. If he said, I wasn't listening."

I watch as Harm and Mac exchange a look.

To anyone who didn't know them, one might think that it was just a casual glance, but I know them. They just had one of those silent conversations that they can have with only a look or two.

"Yes, we had a fight," I confess.

Both of them look at me like 'did we say anything?'

"I said that a lot happened. I didn't say that it was all good," I add defensively.

"You want to talk about it?" Mac asks.

"Not really," I reply, knowing that, at some point before I leave to go back to school, I'll have talked to Gee Gee, Grandma or Mac about it.

"Since Harm doesn't want to hear about it, after he leaves to take Abigail to her piano lesson, I'll tell you about Kyle," I say.

I'll bet that I'm blushing again.

"Hey, Harm, mind if I tag along to that piano lesson today?" Grandpa asks.

"Not at all. I'll go tell Abigail that it's time to go."

"Mind if I rescue, I mean, bring Ty along?" Grandpa inquires.

"No. In fact, we can take Sami, too. If we all go, that should give them plenty of time to talk," Harm replies.

'Who's going to rescue me?' I wonder as the men walk from the room, leaving me with three woman who I know love me, but who are staring at me and waiting for information about my love life.

"So his name is Kyle. Where did you meet him?" Mac asks.

**SQUAD ROOM**

**DETECTIVES UNIT**

**CITY POLICE HQ**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**1500**

Detective Tanner was sitting at his desk and flipping through his field notebook.

There had to be something that they'd missed. There had to be some clue, no matter how remote that they could pursue.

There's always something left behind at a crime scene or on a victim. It's whether or not you can find it that leads you to finding who committed the crime.

He flipped another page.

"Hell, the best theory that I can come up with right now is that it was a ghost," Tanner mumbled to himself.

"There are no ghosts. The kid either disappeared for some reason ...on his own, or someone arranged for him to go missing for some other reason," Tanner said, flipping his notebook back to the first page pertaining to this case to look through it again.

Scanning what he'd written on the first page, he spoke to himself once again, "I wouldn't be thinking that it was a ghost if I'd gotten some sleep."

"You talking to yourself?" Chandler asked his partner while shoving a cup of coffee from a nearby diner at him.

Tanner looked up from his notes.

"Thanks," he said, taking the offered cup. "I was just looking over my notes."

"Find anything that got passed us earlier?" Chandler asked.

"Nothing definite, but what about the Henderson kid?" Tanner asked, flicking the small pad of paper. "In my notes here, I wrote that his behavior was a little odd, but I didn't put down anything specific."

"You know, the victim's roommate, Kincaid, said that Henderson and Chissom didn't get along, and last weekend they almost came to blows."

Tanner started to get to his feet. "I want to talk to all the midshipmen again and anyone else at that school who might be able to tell us what happened to our missing person," he said firmly.

As the two men stepped away from their desks towards the doors of the squad room, Chandler muttered, "Glad that my coffee is strong and already in a to-go cup."


	8. Chapter 8

**PART FOUR**

**SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2008**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**0506**

**HARM'S POV**

I woke and opened my eyes in time to get a good look at Mac's backside as she leaned forward to pluck our whimpering baby girl from her bassinet.

"We should go into the other room so that we don't wake your daddy before his alarm goes off," Mac whispers as she stands upright with Patty in her arms.

"No need to leave on my account," I say softly, not wanting to startle Mac who still has her back to me.

She turns around to look at me.

"I'm sorry that we woke you," she begins apologetically. "I'll just take her into the other room to feed her. That way, you can go back to sleep."

"Since you didn't wake me, I must not be tired anymore, but I'm not ready to get out of bed just yet. So please stay in here to feed Patty." I can see the reluctance on her face. "I'll just sit here with you, and we can talk," I know that it isn't much of an enticement to get her to stay, but I did just wake up, so I'm operating on a limited number of brain cells that are awake.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asks, seemingly uncomfortable with the idea of staying in here with me.

"I don't know...we do have six children. I'm sure that one of them has done something that we can talk about." I hate that my words have come out in a sarcastic tone because it makes my invitation even less appealing.

The tone may have been uninviting, but the topic of our children must compensate because she's moving towards the bed, and her posture is less defensive.

"Yes...you didn't say anything about Abigail's piano lesson yesterday. Did it go well?" she asks.

"Yes, as usual. However, I was surprised when her teacher told me that Abigail had already mentioned that we'd probably be moving around the first of the year. She said that she only brought it up because Abigail is progressing very well and she wanted to encourage us to see that Abigail gets lessons at our new location," I inform Mac as she gets close enough to the bed so that I can stretch out my arms to take Patty to allow her to sit and get comfortable with a little more ease.

As she passes Patty to me, she states, "You did tell her that we intend to do just that, providing that you don't get orders to some place where we can't find her a teacher, didn't you?"

"I did," I say, pleased with myself that I'd responded the way that Mac would have.

As Mac takes a seat on the bed, I change the subject.

"When Frank and I got over to the Roberts' house yesterday, Nikki and Sami took off in one direction to play, and Ty and AJ went in another. Bud was working and wasn't at home, so when Harriet left the room to get us some refreshments, Frank and I were left alone. He told me that he was glad to have a moment to speak with me because there was something that he wanted to run by me, but he hadn't wanted to bring it up in front of the children."

Mac is positioned and ready for me to give our daughter back to her.

As I hand Patty over to her mother, Mac asks, "What was it that he wanted to talk to you about?"

"It seems that he, Mom and my grandmother have been talking, trying to decide when to return to their own homes. He asked if I thought that it would be easier on us, the kids and you if they left all at once or maybe if Grandma left first since she's been here longer and was about to leave before you went into early labor. Then my parents would leave after you and Patty have your checkups at six weeks. He then added that, if it were a different time of year, they probably wouldn't be putting as much thought into it, but, with Thanksgiving and then Christmas right around the corner, it seems like a bad time to leave because they want to be here to enjoy the holidays with their grandchildren. However, they feel that they've been here for quite awhile and that maybe they should "let us have our house back" is the way he put it."

"Did you tell him that they could stay with us as long as they want to stay? The children love having them here," she replies.

"Not exactly..." I hope that I'm not going to be in trouble for the answer that I gave Frank if what she just said is what she would've told him.

"...I told him that we know that they all have interests outside of being grandparents, and though we certainly appreciated them being here and helping out, and the kids have definitely enjoyed having them around, we'd certainly understand if they were ready to get back to their friends and everyday lives. I also said that I could see the problem with deciding when to leave, being that it is so close to the holiday season, and that they should make their decision based on what was best for them. We'd understand, and though the children might not like that they're leaving, they'd be okay."

"What did Frank say to that?" Mac asks, looking panicked that I might have offended him.

"He said that he thought that he'd come up with a compromise. His idea was to stay here through the holidays, but for them to get a place of their own. That way, Mom and Grandma could ease out of doing things around here, you could ease back into running your own home, and the children could get used to them not living with us, hopefully making the time when they actually _do_ leave easier on everyone," I start to explain.

"I don't want them to move into a hotel when we have room for them here," Mac interjects.

"Frank wasn't talking about a hotel. He was talking about renting a condo. He made some calls yesterday and checked out a couple of furnished places that are close by. He said that way they'd be able to stay until after Christmas without being underfoot."

"You should tell him that there's no reason for him to go to that much trouble or expense. They can stay here!"

"Are you sure about that?" I ask.

She gives me a questioning look.

"I thought that Frank brought up a good point about them moving out. My grandmother and mother have taken over running the house. Now, I know that it started as helping out and I'm grateful that they were around to do it, but I can't remember the last time that I cooked dinner. I know that you don't particularly like to cook, but they're doing everything from the cooking and laundry to shopping and taking the kids to school. I think that, not only do they need to get back to their own lives, but they need to let you and me get back to being the parents and them being the grandparents," I explain.

"I can hear it in your voice. You don't mean that."

She's partially right.

"I do about my parents, but with my grandmother, it's different. I don't want her to do so much for us, but she turned eighty-six this year, and she just isn't getting around as well as she used to. It makes me wonder if she's up to being on the farm alone," I inform Mac, sure that, if she detected my reluctance in what I said a moment ago, my concern over my aging grandmother is coming through loud and clear to her now.

"Harm, until she came out to visit us last Christmas, she'd been doing just fine on the farm by herself. She's said herself that it's her home, and I'm sure that she misses it and her friends."

Mac sounds like she thinks that I'm overreacting.

"I'm sure that she does miss the farm and her friends, but we're her family. We could keep an eye on her if she stays here," I say, defending my view point.

"We can't make her stay if she wants to go," Mac states.

"Maybe not, but if she understands that we want her here... I'll bet that, if she isn't already in the kitchen, she'll be in there soon to start a pot of coffee. I'll go talk to her," I say, already leaning in to give Mac a quick kiss before I get out of bed to dress so that I can go have an early morning chat with my grandmother before everyone else is up for breakfast.

**KITCHEN**

**0530**

My grandmother enters the kitchen.

"Good morning, Grandma," I say with a grin.

"Good morning, Harm," she says with a yawn.

"I'm glad to see you. I was beginning to wonder if I should go check on you."

"Why would you think that you needed to check on me? Have you gotten that used to me making the coffee? Though I can smell the fact that you managed to make it this morning, if I've spoiled you by making it for you every morning, then I should start sleeping in so that you can get back in the habit of making your own coffee before I go back to the farm," she says, moving towards the counter where the coffee maker sits.

I can't believe my luck. She's given me the perfect opening to talk to her about staying.

"Not that you can't sleep in, I can make the coffee, but I was telling Mac just this morning that you need to stay here."

"The two of you don't need for me to stay on here, so I'm going back to the farm. It's just a matter of when. I can't decide if my old bones would do better leaving soon and easing into the winter along with the trees or if I should stay for the holidays, which would put me home right smack dab in the middle of winter," she states, pouring the coffee into what's become her favorite mug.

"It's your old bones that has me saying that you need to stay with us so that we can keep an eye on you."

My grandmother spins around, her hand on her hip before the first word leaves her mouth.

"Harmon Rabb, I'm not some fragile old woman. I've been taking care of myself for more years than you've been on this earth. I do not need you or anyone else to 'keep an eye on me'. I'm going back to the farm!"

"Good morning everyone," Frank says, entering the kitchen.

My grandmother grabs her coffee mug and spins around to look at Frank.

"Harm is seeing to breakfast this morning, Frank, but I'm glad that you came in. After talking with my grandson this morning, I've made a decision on when I'm going home. Since I've already told Trish and Mac that I'd make the pies, I'll be staying for Thanksgiving, but I'm leaving right after that," she informs Frank before she storms from the room, leaving me standing with my mouth hanging open, wondering what I said that sent our conversation in the wrong direction.

**SQUAD ROOM**

**DETECTIVES UNIT**

**CITY POLICE HQ**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**0930**

"It's been more than twenty-four hours since Chissom disappeared without a ransom demand. Do you think that we'd be safe to put in our report to the captain that we've ruled out kidnapping?" Chandler asked as he started to fill out their status report for their captain's review.

"I don't feel comfortable with telling him that we've eliminated it completely. Even though his parents told us yesterday that there have been no threats against him or his wife, I think that our report to the captain should leave the door open - just in case we're wrong. It should state that we believe that it's _unlikely_ that he was kidnapped."

"That makes sense." He paused. "If we're including all the possibilities, should I also mention the 'ghost got him theory' in case that turns out to be what happened?" Chandler asked with a chuckle.

"Don't you dare put that crazy theory in the report," Tanner said firmly, but the smile breaking out across his partner's face told him that he'd said it only to get a reaction from him.

"Funny," Tanner said before looking back down at the file on the missing midshipman.

**KRENNICK RESIDENCE**

**ARLINGTON, VA**

**1230**

Allison Krennick had so much military bearing that even her gait as she made her way to the ringing phone on the table in her living room was more like a march than that of a person relaxing in their home on the weekend.

She even answered the phone using military protocol.

"Admiral Krennick," she spoke into the handset.

"Alllie..."

That one word rocked Krennick's stance, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Bill?" she said questioningly, though she could think of no one else who it could be. Bill had been the only man who'd ever dared to call her by a nickname.

"Yes, Allie, I know that it's been a few years, but it's me."

The shock of hearing his voice was quickly replaced by hurt and anger, and she regained her military bearing.

"Not a few years, twenty years!" she hissed.

"Allie, I need to talk to you. Meet with me today." His words came out as a plea.

Only Bill could weaken her armor with just a few words, and though more vulnerable than most would suspect that it was possible for her to be, she didn't intend to meet him.

She had her pride, so she firmed up her resolve.

However, being human, the call from him after all these years had her wondering: 'It's been two decades since I last saw him. Now he calls out of the blue. Why?'

"You're still married to _her_, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes, but -"

She wouldn't get involved with a married man and risk her career, nor would she risk tainting the office that she'd just been sworn into last week. It wouldn't happen...not on her watch - not even for the man who'd once had her heart. He'd made his choice twenty years ago and he was going to have to live with it.

"Then we have no reason to see each other, do we?" she said firmly, her military bearing returning in full force.

"Allie, please meet with me." Now he sounded like he was begging. "You may be the only one who can help me."

So what he wanted wasn't personal but professional, she quickly assessed from his last statement.

Sworn into the office for only a week, and someone already wanted to take advantage of her new position.

She shouldn't be surprised, she thought. She also thought that she might as well get used to saying no now.

She would _not_ misuse her new position.

The hallowed halls of the Capitol wouldn't be citing the name of Allison Krennick as an example of why there shouldn't be a second female appointed to the position.

"If you got yourself into trouble, you can get yourself out of it. I can't help you," she said firmly.

"It isn't me. It's my son, and I don't know if he _is_ in trouble...I don't even know if he's alive."

Now she heard fear in his voice.

"We have to meet in some public place," Allison said, deciding that, if a life could be hanging in the balance, she should meet with him.

"The Jefferson Memorial..."

"That's fine."

"Can you meet me in an hour?"

"I'll be there."

**JEFFERSON MEMORIAL**

**1330**

Before she could see his face, she knew that it was William "Bill" Chissom approaching her, and her anticipation changed to nervous apprehension.

'Had it been a mistake to meet him?'

"Allie," he said as he came near.

His hair had grayed around the temples, but time had left few signs of age on his face.

'He looks as handsome as ever,' she thought as she returned his greeting, "Hello, Bill."

"You look as beautiful as ever," he said, and she made note that he sounded sincere.

As his arms came around her in an embrace, she felt herself tense up.

Sensing her discomfort at the close contact after all the years that had passed, he quickly released her.

"I'm sorry, Allie. I'm just so glad to see you and thankful that you agreed to meet with me."

There was no way that she was going to admit how good it felt to be in his arms again, so, with her resolve firmly set, she spoke, "There's no reason to be sorry. I just think that one of us needs to keep a level head. We're both in powerful positions now, and being seen embracing in public could lead to speculation that neither one of us wants, Senator."

"I'm happy to hear that you haven't changed. I need a level-headed and objective person to give me some advice. Well, it's more than advice that I want. I want...I need your help, Allie."

"You said on the phone that this was about your son. How can I be of any help there?" she asked, confused since she would assume that the boy's mother would be better at giving him advice concerning his son instead of her.

"Have you seen or read the news about the Annapolis midshipman who's missing?" he asked.

"Yes," she got out before he began to speak again.

"They haven't released his name to the press, though I'm not sure if that's part of the investigative process or a courtesy or precaution because he's a Senator's son ... my son. That's why I need your help. The police haven't come up with anything, and though I don't know a lot about these things, I have to wonder if they're doing everything that they can to find him. I thought that you could advise me on whether or not I should go public ... offer a reward for information leading to his safe return. I also thought that you might even be able to look over what the police have and get some idea of what happened to him."

"I think that our previous relationship, though many years ago and not inappropriate, makes me a bad choice for the job as your advisor. I also don't see how I can put a military angle on it to make it a JAGman investigation and put my people on it since your son isn't in the Navy yet, even though he attends the Naval Academy and you're retired from the Navy."

"So, you won't help me?" he asked, sounding as if he'd just been wounded.

"I _can't_ help you, but I know someone who I'd call if I were in your position. He's an excellent investigator and probably a better lawyer than I am, but if you ever had feelings for me, you can't tell him that I said that."

"I loved you, Allie, very much," he said, brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "You were just more in love with your career than you were with me. I was ready for a family. I would've waited if I'd thought that you would ever have been ready, but we both know that you weren't going to be. I stayed as long as I could." He paused. "Was I wrong? Have you ever married?" he asked, gazing into her eyes.

"No, never have," she answered without regret.

"This person who you have in mind...will he help me if you ask him?" he asked, knowing that, if she said that the person who she had in mind would, he'd wonder if it was her current lover, and even after all these years, the idea of that caused him to feel a slight twinge of jealousy.

"He's a fine officer, a good man and a father himself. He'd probably do it no matter who asked him. However, I'm not sure if he'll have time. He isn't on my staff, so I can't order him to work with you, and he'll have to work it around his current duties."

"Where is he stationed?"

"He's the legal advisor to the Secretary of the Navy at the Pentagon."

"What's his name?"

"Captain Harmon Rabb, Jr."

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**1625**

**HARM'S POV**

"So, Kevin, what is it that you wanted to talk to us about?" I ask.

"I just wanted to know if the two of you would be willing to let me interview you for a school project that I'm doing for my film class," Kevin informs us.

"Is that what you're going to major in, film production?" Mac asks.

"No, Ma'am. I wanted to, but my mother said that I needed to study something more realistic and pick a major that would get me a job that would pay enough for me to eat regularly. So, I'm majoring in business, but I'm going to minor in film production. I may not be able to do it as a job, but I hope to keep making films, and you never know. One of them might make it into the right hands, and I'll become the next big thing. Then my business management degree will come in handy when I'm running my own production company."

"I think that it's great that you've found a way to keep your mother from worrying about your future without giving up your dream," Mac tells him. "Now, what kind of project are you doing that you'd like to interview us?"

"It's a documentary on military life, not about the war, but about the families of servicemen and women ... what it's like to be separated for deployments, move every so many years, that sort of thing. I thought since you've served and are now a spouse, Mrs. Rabb, you'd have a unique perspective from both sides, the one being shipped out and as a spouse as well. Plus, Mattie told me about the time that Captain Rabb was missing for a period of time. I'd like to talk to you about that experience, if it's okay with you, Ma'am, and you, too, Sir. I'll want to start filming next weekend if possible."

"If it'll help, I don't see why I can't participate," Mac answered. "How about you, Harm? Are you willing to help, too?"

"Count me in," I say with a shrug since I can't think of any reason not to help the young man.

"Thank you," Kevin says before a blank look comes over his face.

"Was there something else, Kevin?" I ask.

"Yes, Sir," he says before he looks at Mac. "No, Sir." He pauses. "I'll let you know when I'll be here next weekend to film. Is that okay?"

Mac looks at me, and I can see it in her eyes. She thinks that there's something else on his mind, too.

"I need to go check on Patty and then see if there's anything that I can do to help with dinner," Mac says, excusing herself so that Kevin can talk to me alone.

Kevin smiles widely. "Thank you again for helping me with the project, Ma'am."

Mac gives him a smile and says, "You're welcome" before leaving the room.

With Mac out of the room, I ask, "What is it, Kevin?

"I'm worried about Mattie, Sir."

"Why's that?"

"Did she tell you that she met a guy at the party last Friday night?"

"She mentioned it, but then I took Abigail to her piano lesson. However, I got the highlights from Mac. His name is Kyle, right?"

"That's right, Kyle Chamberlain, and you need to tell Mattie to stay away from him, Sir."

"Why should I do that?" I ask, wondering if he's going to confess to wanting to date her himself.

"Well, Sir, he's the kind of guy ... you know, Sir ... he has a reputation on campus."

Kevin seems to be struggling with being straightforward with me.

"Do you know what a player is, Sir?" Kevin asks, finally making eye contact with me.

"A guy who doesn't have just one girlfriend and is after only one thing," I respond.

He lets out a sigh of relief that I understand and he didn't have to use the word sex in our conversation.

"Yes, Sir. That's the kind of guy that Kyle is. He's a locker room talker about his conquests. I tried to talk to Mattie to warn her, but she wouldn't listen, and we got into a big argument, and now she's barely speaking to me. I don't want her to get hurt or make a mistake, Sir. I think that Mattie was taken in by his English accent and his line of I'm good looking and sensitive, too, shit." Realizing that he'd just cursed in front of me, he quickly adds, "Sorry for my language, Sir."

"Kevin, I appreciate that you're trying to look out for Mattie. She may very well be making a mistake, but it's her life and her mistake to make. I can't order her to stay away from him because she'd do the exact opposite just to exercise her independence."

"But he's all wrong for her, Sir!" Kevin interjects adamantly.

"That's very possible," I say before leaning back against the cushions on the couch.

"Look, Kevin, it's obvious to me that you care about Mattie, but telling her what to do is never going to work. You're going to have to let her go out with him or anyone else who she chooses to -"

"There's got to be another way!" he says, cutting me off.

"That's up to you." He gives me a quizzical look. "You can either be her friend and be there for her when she makes a mistake or gets hurt as she dates whoever she chooses, or you can tell her how you feel about her and see where it goes from there."

Kevin's looking at me like he's the deer and I'm the headlights.

I guess that he wasn't prepared for me to be so blunt.

After a moment, he breaks out of the daze that my words had induced and says, "Thanks for the advice, Sir. I'll call to set a time to interview you and Mrs. Rabb next weekend. Tell Mattie that I said hi, okay?"

"I thought that you were staying for dinner?" I inquire.

"I was, Sir, but I think that I should go home. I've got something that I've got to work on," he says before scurrying to the door like his pants are on fire.

I wonder if he's going to work on how he's going to deal with watching Mattie date someone else or how he's going to tell my daughter that he's in love with her.

Wait a minute!

Did I just advise a boy to pursue my daughter? What was I thinking?

Suddenly, I feel some of the color drain from my face, not only because I think that I just encouraged a boy to begin a relationship with my daughter, but that I gave advice that I should've heeded myself when it dawns on me that my concern and love for my grandmother this morning probably came out sounding like I was_ telling _her that she couldn't go home.

I think that I'll just sit here a little while longer to figure out how I should word my apology so that my grandmother won't only accept it, but the invitation to stay with us through at least Christmas, as well.


	9. Chapter 9

**PART FIVE **

**MONDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 2008**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**0501**

**HARM'S POV**

I reach over to shut off the alarm.

"Harm, it's only 0501. Why did you set your alarm so early?" Mac asks though a sleepy yawn.

"I need to get up early because there's something that I have to do this morning."

She rolls over to face me.

"Are you fixing breakfast again this morning? Isn't your grandmother feeling well? She spent most of the day yesterday in her room and she didn't seem quite herself when she was with us."

"She's feeling fine. I upset her yesterday morning, so I think that she was avoiding me since she kept disappearing to her room. I didn't talk to her last night because I wasn't sure that she was ready to listen, but I'm hoping to catch her in the kitchen this morning so that I can apologize."

"What did you say?" Mac asks before she yawns again.

"I don't think that it's so much what I said as the way I said it," I explain.

I see the confused and tired look on her face.

"You get some more sleep while you can, and I'll explain it to you when Patty gets you up for her breakfast," I suggest.

She nods and closes her eyes, ready to sleep once more.

**KITCHEN**

**0515**

I get to the kitchen to find that my grandmother is already here and has started the coffee.

"Good morning, Harm."

She isn't as angry as she was yesterday morning because she didn't call me Harmon.

"Good morning, Grandma. Is anyone else up?" I ask.

"No, dear, it's just you and me. I think that we need to talk," she says before reaching for two coffee mugs.

"Me, too. Let me start." After getting a consenting nod from her, I continue, "I want to apologize for coming across like I was telling you what to do, for making it sound like you had to stay here because I thought that it was best for you."

"I got the feeling that you think that I'm too old to take care of myself."

She sounds a little teary, and that makes me feel even worse.

"I don't think that at all, Grandma. You take care of all of us, so there's no reason for me to think for one second that you can't take care of yourself, and I certainly didn't mean to make you think that I felt differently. What I was so clumsily trying to say yesterday morning is that Mac and I would like for you to stay with us because we love having you here, but we understand that you have friends and a life elsewhere. However, I'd like to request that you consider staying on after Thanksgiving until at least Christmas."

"Harm, that's very sweet of you, but if I stay that long, I might as well stay for the entire winter."

"That works for us," I say with a broad grin.

"What works for us?" Frank says, entering the kitchen.

"My grandson is trying to get me to stay here through the winter, but I've been gone from home a lot this past year. I need to go check on things and let my friends know that I haven't run off and abandoned the place."

"I doubt that they'd think that," Frank says with a chuckle as he makes his way over to the coffee maker.

"Doubt that who'd think what?" my mother asks while entering the room, Frank already reaching for another cup to pour Mom a cup of coffee, as well.

"He doubts that my friends would think that I'd abandoned my farm if I spend the winter here," my grandmother responds.

"I'm with Frank. I don't think that your friends would think that either. However, I think that I have a marvelous solution to what we've all been talking about," Trish says with a sparkle in her eye that clues in her husband that she's got an idea.

"What brilliant idea have you come up with, my dear?" Frank asks with a sweetness that I know means that he's being sincere.

"We've been talking about getting out of Harm and Mac's hair. What if, instead of renting a condo, we take Sarah up to the farm? We'd leave after Thanksgiving. Everyone is doing well here, but we should wait until after Mac and Patty's appointments to go anywhere to be on the safe side. We'd stay at the farm for two or three weeks to help Sarah winterize the farm, and then we'd drive back here to do our shopping and spend Christmas. Then, after the holiday, Frank and I will return to San Diego, and Sarah can stay here for as long as she wants, knowing that the farm is okay and that her friends know where to find her."

"What do you think, Grandma? Does that sound like something that you'd like to do?" I ask, hoping that she'll agree.

"It sounds good, but let's sit down and enjoy our coffee while we wait to run the idea past your wife before we get too excited about our great plan. She might not like for us to leave only to pop back in again."

I smile at my grandmother and know that she's forgiven me and, thanks to her, I won't have to apologize to my wife for making plans without her.

**SENATOR CHISSOM'S OFFICE**

**THE CAPITOL**

**WASHINGTON, DC **

**1000**

"Captain Rabb, the Senator will see you now," a lovely young woman says as she moves to open the door to the adjoining room.

"Senator Chissom, Captain Rabb to see you," his secretary says as we step into the Senator's office.

"Thank you, Melanie. That will be all," Senator Chissom says, rounding his desk to greet me.

"Captain Rabb," Bill Chissom says while extending his hand.

I take the Senator's hand and shake it, but there's something a little off about the demeanor of the man who's summoned me here to meet with him.

I catch the Senator glancing in the direction of his door, and when it clicks, indicating that it's closed, he focuses back on me.

He'd been waiting for us to be alone before beginning a conversation.

Senator Chissom releases my hand and, while motioning towards the chairs in front of his desk, he speaks, "Please have a seat, Captain Rabb."

After doing as requested, I'm surprised that the Senator didn't return to the chair behind his desk but rather sat in the chair next to me.

Senator Chissom sits unmoving, silently gathering his thoughts for a full minute.

"Did anyone tell you why I wanted to see you?" the Senator finally says softly.

There was no easy way for him to say that his son was missing, and he wasn't sure how to begin to involve this stranger, no matter how highly recommended he came.

"No, Senator. I was told only to report here and to assist you in whatever capacity I could," I reply.

Senator Chissom starts to shake his head. "You know that it's rare when you're able to keep private things private when you're in politics."

If the Senator is talking about a private matter, I'm not looking forward to offering legal advice on how to avoid having an affair exposed, for example, so I start to feel a little uncomfortable about the direction that this conversation appears to be taking.

I hear the Senator inhale a deep breath.

"It's difficult for me to say out loud, but I need your help to find my son," he blurts out on his exhale.

"Sir, though as a father, I can understand your desire to locate your son, I'm a lawyer, not a police officer or a detective. I don't see how I can be of any help to you," I state matter-of-factly.

"I don't know if you can..." he says, acknowledging that I might not be able to help him. "...but an old friend told me that you were the best investigator around, so I called in a few favors until I'd worked my way up the chain of command to your boss. Now, you're here. So please, let me tell you about my son," the Senator says, pleading with me to listen to his story.

The tone in his voice tells me that the man is hurting and, if all the assistance that I can offer him is to listen, then who am I not to give him, a fellow father, a few minutes of my time?

"All right, Senator, tell me about your son and why you need my help to find him," I state compassionately.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**1415**

The information, or rather the lack of facts in the case that I'd taken on this morning was churning in my head when I entered my home.

Since I was two hours earlier than usual, I wasn't surprised that my arrival hadn't garnered any attention as I'd made my way to the master bedroom.

I'm in our bedroom, stripped of my uniform and standing in my boxers, preparing to get into something more comfortable to work on the case in the den, at least until the rest of my children get home from school, when the bedroom door opens and a formidable opponent barges into the room ready for battle.

"Harm!" Mac says, sounding shocked. "I heard someone in the room through the baby monitor..." She continues, her posture becoming more relaxed. "...and with everyone except Patty in the kitchen..." Her voice trails off.

"Sorry, I should have come in and let you know that I was home," I respond, now completely understanding her 'ready for battle' stance when she entered our room.

She'd come in prepared to protect our child from what she'd presumed was a threat since she didn't know that I was home.

"You do realize that you could have saved me from the potential loss of life or limb if you'd moved the bassinet into the kitchen or living room since it is on wheels," I state, trying to divert the attention away from my error in judgment.

"I had it in the living room until Sami got up from her nap and wanted to play with her baby sister, but I'd just gotten Patty to sleep, so I pushed it back in here...and you could have saved yourself if you'd have let me know that you were home!"

Having explained her reason for Patty being in our room, Mac's defensive tone changes to one of concern as she asks, "Why are you home so early? Has something happened? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing that concerns us, if that's what you mean, but I was summoned to the Capitol this morning to take on a case," I answer, reaching for my jeans that I'd placed on the end of the bed to change into.

"What kind of case would the Capitol be assigning you? Wouldn't anything involving the Hill be a problem for the FBI or the CIA?" Mac asks curiously.

"It still might end up being an FBI case if it turns out to be a kidnapping, but at this point, the city police don't have anything to suggest that it is...or that any crime has been committed, for that matter," I respond while pulling on my jeans.

"You've certainly piqued my curiosity. Can you tell me about your case, or is it 'need to know'?" Mac asks, wrinkling her nose as she says the last three words.

"I don't see why I can't tell you about it. Who knows? You may be able to come up with a _real_ possible scenario," I state sarcastically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks with a quizzical look.

"I just spent the last hour with a woman, the only witness who we have at this point, who thinks that a ghost is responsible," I reply with a chuckle before reaching for my shirt on the end of the bed.

"Why don't you go tell everyone that the noise that you heard in here was me, and then, if you don't have anything pressing to do, meet me in the den. I'll fill you in on what I know at this point," I suggest.

"Why don't you push her into the den when you finish changing?" she asks while pointing to the bassinet. "If we're in the middle of one of our brainstorming sessions, I can feed her in the den if she wakes up while we're discussing the case."

**DEN**

**FIVE MINUTES LATER**

**MAC'S POV**

I enter the room, excited about discussing something other than the baby's feeding schedule, the Thanksgiving dinner menu and other such domestic activities. Though I love my husband and my family dearly, there are times when I really miss my work as a JAG lawyer.

"So..." I begin, but when I see that Harm has Patty in his arms, I assume that she's stirred and lower my voice. "...since you said that there may not be a crime, why were you called to the Capitol this morning?" I question while taking note that the bassinet is in the room, so it's likely that Patty woke during the move, and Harm has picked her up to soothe her until she goes back to sleep.

"It seems that a midshipman from the Naval Academy has disappeared," Harm replies, gently rocking our baby girl.

"A missing midshipman warrants the involvement of someone on the Hill?" I ask with what I'm sure is a puzzled look on my face.

"It does when the missing midshipman is the son of a Senator...and before you ask, I don't know why he called in favors to get me to meet with him," Harm explains.

Now that Patty has settled down after being awakened by the movement of the bassinet, Harm knows that he must put her down in order to have his hands free to flip through his notes or write down any ideas that come out of our meeting, so he reluctantly moves to put Patty back in her bassinet.

**HARM'S POV**

"Oh, I wasn't going to ask that. I know why the Senator would want you on the case. It's because you're a good investigator. What I was wondering was which one of your many admirers gave him your name," Mac says with a hint of jealousy in her voice, which implies that she thinks that my name was given to the Senator by a woman.

"It wasn't relevant to my being there, so I didn't ask," I quickly say, addressing the slight tone of jealousy that I heard in her voice before placing Patty in her bassinet.

"True, it isn't important to your case. So, tell me what facts you have about the missing midshipman."

"There aren't many facts," I begin before looking down at Patty to make sure that she's going to stay quiet in her bassinet.

"Five midshipmen went out together this past Friday. They stopped at Middleton Tavern for dinner and then went to take a tour of the Decatur House as part of a Halloween night hunt for ghosts. As I understand it, after they left the Decatur House, the group was supposed to go on to Truxton Park to look for the witch. However, their haunted night ended at the Decatur House when one of the midshipmen disappeared," I quietly inform Mac before moving towards my desk and away from the bassinet where Patty is again sleeping soundly.

"You mentioned earlier that there was a witness and that you'd spoken with her."

"Yes, I spoke with her. She said that, when the lights went out, which turned out to be a little practical joke for Halloween from the staff of Decatur House, she heard a moan, a creak, a gasp and a thud, causing her to scream. After she'd screamed, she said that she heard another creak and then a click before the lights came on. She said that, after the first creak, she felt a chill in the air. Then I spent the rest of the hour that I was with Judy Simon, listening to her tell me that she didn't know what the noises were, but that she was sure that the cold air meant that the ghost of the late Commodore Decatur had come into the room and, therefore, he must have taken the boy," I tell Mac while taking my notes from my briefcase.

"Has Commodore Decatur's ghost done this before?" Mac asks with a chuckle that suggests to me that she doesn't believe that an apparition had anything to do with the disappearance of the Academy student.

"Not that I'm aware, and I don't think that he's done it this time, either." I say the former to humor my wife, and the latter to turn the conversation back to forming a more believable scenario.

"Have you spoken to anyone else...the other boys for instance?" Mac asks, taking a seat in the chair in front of my desk.

"No, and I'm glad that you brought that up because it reminded me to tell you that I won't be at the breakfast table in the morning. I've got to be at the Academy early. Three of the four midshipmen who went out with the missing boy that night have agreed to meet with me if I get there before their classes start tomorrow. However, the fourth one wouldn't meet with me without the family lawyer present. Hopefully, their attorney will call me tomorrow to set up a time to meet with him."

Looking across the desk at me, Mac asks, "Someone who he knows well enough to go out with socially is missing, and he won't speak to you without his attorney present? That's interesting, isn't it?"

"It is, but when I spoke with the Senator before I came home, he said that his son hadn't mentioned having trouble with anyone at school."

"That he knew about... If you haven't already, you should talk to the boy's mother. The son may have confided in her rather than his father."

"I'll call the Senator in the morning to set up an interview with his wife," I say, scribbling myself a note on my notepad to do the said task.

"What else do you have to go on?" Mac asks.

"Other than the fact that there's been no ransom demand, nothing," I inform her. "That's why I came home early. Since the Senator wants the investigation handled quietly, at least for the time being, I thought that I could be discreet by coming home to read newspaper articles and watch news spots from the last couple of days in hopes of filling in some of the blanks."

"No ransom demand after three days ... that doesn't make kidnapping very likely. On the other hand, if there's legislation coming up on which the Senator is considered to have the deciding vote, and someone wanted to make sure that his vote swung things in the right direction, taking his son when the opportunity presented itself and holding on to him until the time for the vote was only a day or two away might be a motive. It could be that the abductor thinks that it's too early to make a demand," Mac speculates out loud.

"That's certainly a possibility. Any other ideas before I get started on my research?" I ask.

**MAC'S POV**

"Only ones that I'm sure that you've thought of, too," I state, not wanting to hurt Harm's feelings, but getting an adrenaline rush from brainstorming with him.

"Such as," Harm says, encouraging me to continue.

"That he was murdered and the killer hid the body while it was dark," I begin as I stand.

I start to pace the room as I continue to speak my thoughts out loud.

"Though I don't think that scenario is very plausible unless you find that a member of the Decatur House staff knew one of the students and had arranged for the lights to go out for the purpose of giving him or them time to hide the body until later when it could be disposed of."

I pause and look at Harm, waiting to see a sign as to whether or not he wants me to continue, but find that he's smiling at me and not writing anything down like he had been when I'd spoken before.

"You can wipe that smile off your face. If you've thought of these scenarios, you could have stopped me at any time," I say, a little annoyed by the fact that he didn't appear to have been listening to me anymore.

"That isn't the reason why I'm smiling," Harm states. "I was just thinking about how much I miss working with you."

"You do?" I question, the idea never having occurred to me.

"You sound surprised," Harm says, standing up to move around his desk to me.

**HARM'S POV**

"A little ... Harm, we fought all the time. Why would you miss that?" Mac asks, her expression having gone from annoyed to confused.

"We didn't fight _all_ the time and, when we did, I think that we can now agree that arguing was a defense mechanism," I state, coming to stand in front of her as I speak.

The odd look on her face at my comment like she didn't get my meaning causes me to add, "It was hard for me to listen to what you had to say when all I could think about sometimes was how beautiful you looked..." My hand cups her cheek, and I lean down until my lips hover just above hers as I whisper, "...like a moment ago, but back then, I couldn't do this."

Then my lips meet hers.

My lips have barely touch hers when my hand on her face makes its way down to her neck. My other arm snakes around her waist and, as I pull her into me, my tongue glides across her lower lip, seeking entrance to her mouth.

Lost in the moment - it's the first time since Patty's birth that I've offered any sign of affection that was more than a peck on the lips for good morning or good night - Mac parts her lips and allows my tongue to enter her mouth where our tongues begin to dance.

Wanting to indulge in her - had it been this difficult to refrain from making love to her after Matthew had been born? - I don't think so - but knowing that Mac hasn't had her checkup yet and that sex is off limits, I force myself to withdraw my tongue from her mouth and bring the kiss to a natural close.

Not wanting to let go, but knowing that keeping her in my arms will make things only more difficult for me, I find my voice and softly confess, "Fighting with you took my mind off of wanting you. It broke the sexual tension for me." Then I release my hold on her.

As I step back to my desk, I realize that I'd been foolish to think that a kiss would pacify my interest in her.

Perhaps I should've fought with her instead, because the kiss had been like a teasing taste of her and had served only to heighten my desire to make love to her.

"If I'm distracting you, I should go and let you get some work done," Mac says, still slightly dazed from the unexpected kiss.

Her leaving the room might help me recover, but I enjoy her company, and I really do miss working with her.

"No, don't go. I may have thought of some of your ideas, but you were on a roll. I didn't mean to cut you off. Please continue. With no more information than I have right now, I can use all the ideas that I can get before I review the articles and news clips," I plead as I drop into my desk chair.

"If you're sure that it'll help...where was I?" Mac questions, seemingly pleased that I'm going to let her stay and help me.

"You'd mentioned murder and kidnapping, for either ransom or leverage," I prompt.

"Oh, yes, then there's the possibility that either he was aided by someone on the staff to disappear or perhaps he just seized the opportunity when the lights went out to slip away. Now _that_ theory is pretty good ... but it begs the question: Why would he want to disappear?"

"Nothing in what his father told me would make me think that he'd want to, but then, I don't think that, when I went UA, anyone would've thought that I had a reason to, either, but ... I needed a break," I say, speculating based on my own Academy experience.

Before we can get into a conversation about why the midshipman might have wanted to disappear or discuss any other possible theories, Patty starts to stir.

It was time for Patty to eat, and though Mac had been going to take her into another room to feed her, Harm, still unsure of what had caused his sudden, barely controllable desire to be intimate with Mac earlier, but seeing how working on this case was putting a spark in Mac's eyes that he hadn't seen in many months, he persuaded her to stay in the den with him while he watched news clips and read newspaper articles that came up during a search of the internet.

By the time dinner was ready, Harm had pages of ideas, but had no facts to support any of them.

Knowing that he could make no more progress tonight, Harm left the den to eat dinner and enjoy time with his family before going to bed.

A good night's sleep would serve him well if tomorrow's interviews supplied him with more facts than speculation and he had some leads to chase down.


	10. Chapter 10

**PART SIX **

**TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 2008**

**BARRACKS/DORM**

**NAVAL ACADEMY**

**ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND **

**0635**

**HARM'S POV**

As Election Day drew closer, I'd been having less and less work to keep me busy at the office, so, though as a father I felt for the Senator, it was the light workload that allowed me the time to work on the case. At the same time, having a case to work on was making me feel as if I were being productive and not just shuffling papers as we waited to find out who'd be our new President.

After I'd checked in at the administration office, I'd walked across the campus, hearing the sounds of men calling cadence, but a quick look over my shoulder had revealed no one.

The cadence had been inside my head, a recalled memory of my life on this campus many years ago.

Coming to stand in front of the statue where I'd agreed to meet Midshipman Pemberton for the first interview of the day, I couldn't help but think of my days as a midshipman here and wondered fleetingly if Keeter or Turner ever came back to visit the campus.

After speaking with Midshipman Pemberton, I made my way to the sports field where, upon the end of morning exercises, I met Midshipman Ellery.

As I walked the Academy grounds in the cool autumn morning, it brought back more memories of the days when I'd made similar treks from one place to another before, between and after classes.

My final interview of the morning is with Midshipman Chissom's roommate, and he agreed to meet with me at his barracks before morning chow call.

Entering the old building, I have another feeling of familiarity, and with it comes the realization that, though I wouldn't describe my years here as happy ones, it wasn't because of the school or my experiences here. It was the baggage that I'd brought with me.

The sense of loss that had come with having an MIA father, the empty feeling that I'd carried at not having closure about what had happened to him, the anger that I'd felt at not being able to find my father that summer when I'd gone to look for him, guilt over the death of Gym, and resentment towards my mother for declaring my father dead and moving on with Frank are just a few of the things that I'd carried within me in those days.

Standing in the common room of the barracks and staring out the window, I hear the voice of a young man who breaks through my reflections of a time long ago.

"Captain Rabb?"

**KITCHEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**0827**

I had hoped that my trip home would take less time, but knowing that it had taken me an hour to get to the Academy this morning, I was thankful that my drive back to the house took only an hour and fifteen minutes.

When no one was in the living room, I headed for the kitchen, hoping to find at least part of the current household dwellers in there so that I could inform them that I was home.

I found my mother and grandmother in the kitchen and was about to retreat to go in search of Mac, but I didn't move quickly enough, and my grandmother caught sight of me.

Having stepped into the kitchen far enough to come into her view, my grandmother speaks, "Harm, you're back. Join us for coffee?"

"Did you have breakfast, dear? I could make something for you," my mother offers right after my grandmother's welcome.

"No, Mom, I don't need anything to eat. Grandma was up and fed me a blueberry muffin and coffee before I left this morning," I reply while maintaining eye contact with my mother. Then looking at my grandmother, I continue, "I'd love another cup of coffee and to join you, but I have work to do, so I just came in to tell you that I decided that I could work from home between appointments today so that, if you heard any strange noises coming from the den, you'd know that it was just me."

"You should sit and have your coffee with us. Frank chose to entertain Matt and Sami, but Mac will be back in a minute. She just went to put Patty back in her bed. You'd have the undivided attention of all of the women in the house," my grandmother says with a chuckle.

"As nice as that sounds, I've got work to do, and no matter how wonderful the company would be if I stayed, my work won't get done with me sitting in here chatting. Please let Mac know that I'm the one who's rattling about when she rejoins your little coffee klatch," I say with my charming smile firmly planted on my face.

"Okay, dear, but at least take a cup of coffee in there with you," my mom says, starting to stand in order to pour it for me.

"Thanks, but relax. I'll get it," I say while motioning for my mother to stay seated as I move towards the coffee maker.

**DEN**

**SEVEN MINUTES LATER **

There's a soft knock on the door.

As the door opens a crack, Mac's voice comes into the room. "Harm?"

"Yes, it's me. Didn't my mom or grandma tell you that I was home?"

She opens the door fully.

"They told me, but I didn't want to barge in if you were on the phone with your client. However, I was curious and wanted to ask if you got anything useful during your interviews this morning."

"Can you call him my client? I mean, he isn't accused of anything." My voice trails off as I contemplate the answer to my own question, but after a momentary pause, I speak again, "Well, whatever he is, I did try to call him, but I had to leave a message."

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Mac says, assuming that I hadn't heard the rest of what she'd said and that she should excuse herself and let me get to work.

"Not curious anymore?" I question.

"Yes, but you seem a little distracted. I don't want to make things worse," Mac informs me, seemingly surprised that I'd heard that she was curious about my case.

"Up too early without enough coffee..." I joke, lifting my coffee mug "...but if you'll have a seat, I'll tell you my theory as to why the one midshipman might want his attorney present when I interview him."

Mac closes the door and moves to sit in the chair in front of my desk.

"It sounds like you got some new information this morning. So fill me in," Mac says curiously while taking a seat.

I swallow a gulp of my now lukewarm coffee before I respond to her request.

Torn as to whether or not I can call the Senator a "client," which would bind me to keep his confidence, I decide that, since I'm looking into the mysterious disappearance of the Senator's son at his request, I should be able to share the information, telling anyone who might be able to help me - and it's Mac, not the press. She can be trusted. So I decide to fill in Mac and that using their real names will lessen the confusion when I tell her about my morning interviews.

"I got pretty much the same story from all three midshipmen who I interviewed. I don't know if it's a motive for wanting him out of the way, but by all accounts, Midshipman Henderson, who wants me to talk to him with his lawyer present, and Chissom have never gotten along, and the week prior to Chissom's disappearance, they almost came to blows," I say as I place my coffee mug down on the desk.

"The night that Chissom disappeared, though no one believes that Chissom and Henderson saw each other prior to meeting at Midshipman Ellery's car to leave the Academy that evening, they all agreed that Henderson came to the car agitated about something," I say, continuing to inform her about what I'd been told this morning.

"Meaning that there's no reason to think that Henderson was angry _with_ _or at _Chissom that day," Mac says to clarify her understanding.

"Correct, but I'm sure that the police have tapped Midshipman Henderson as their prime suspect in Chissom's disappearance," I respond.

"Do you have an appointment to talk with Henderson and his attorney yet?" Mac asks.

"Henderson's attorney called me about an hour ago. I've set up an appointment to meet with him at his office in Arlington at 1300. Since the midshipman should be in class at that hour, I don't have the impression that I'll be seeing him there, but I'll find out what I can and hope that it answers some of my questions."

I lean back in my chair and look at my note pad, mentally reviewing the information that I've received up to this point.

"I know that look, Harm," Mac says with a grin.

"What look?" I ask innocently, unaware that my expression conveyed to her that I'm trying to work through the facts to a logical conclusion.

"The one that you have when you're trying to make sense out of something, but the pieces don't fit together."

"Oh, that look," I reply, wondering when I'd acquired 'a look' for that, but she's right. That's exactly what I was doing.

"If you tell me more about your interviews this morning so that I have as much information as you do, maybe I can help," Mac suggests.

I reach for my notepad.

"Here are my notes," I say, offering her my legal pad.

Mac starts to review the information.

After a few moments, she looks up from the notepad.

"You have a note here about Chissom's grades, but it's crossed out. Why?" she asks.

"I got the idea that maybe his disappearance might have something to do with his academic standing when his roommate, Midshipman Kincaid, told me that the only thing odd about Chissom's behavior lately was that he'd been studying a lot more. Chissom was an A/B student last year, and except for a C in Naval History, his grades are in the same range so far for this year, as well. I crossed out my note when I figured that he hadn't been at the top of his class, so having _one _average grade wouldn't be a reason to want to disappear."

"Makes sense," Mac says before returning her eyes to the paper in her hand.

After reading the rest of my notes, which doesn't take long, Mac looks up at me once again.

"Do you want me to go first or do you want to tell me your ideas, and I'll just add any that I've had that you don't mention after you've finished?" Mac inquires, wanting to help me with the case.

"You show me yours. I'll show you mine," I say with a wiggle of my eyebrow.

Mac's cheeks take on the rosy hue of a blush, her face not able to hide her interest in doing just that once again. However, she doesn't verbally acknowledge my sexual innuendo. Instead, she keeps her focus on the case at hand - the missing midshipman.

"Assuming that it wasn't a ghost as your first witness suggested, let's say that, though no one knew about their running into each other, Chissom and Henderson did have some kind of a run-in at some point during the day prior to them all going out that night. How would he have gotten the body out of the house undetected and in the dark? Not only would he have had to know that the lights would be going out, but when. Henderson would also have had to know the floor plan of the house well enough to be able to maneuver in the dark with a body without any trace that a crime had been committed," Mac ponders out loud.

"My thoughts exactly, which has me thinking that perhaps Chissom didn't meet with some movie-of-the-week violence." I take a breath. "Let's suppose that, when the lights went out, the creak that was heard was a loose floorboard, and Chissom lost his balance, hitting the floor, which would explain the thud that was heard, but in his fall, he hit his head. An injury to the head could have made him disoriented and, in the darkness, he wandered off."

If Mac was going to say something, I don't give her the chance.

"That scenario sounds good except when you factor in that the search dogs didn't pick up his scent. If he'd managed to get out of the house in the dark and was disoriented, he wouldn't have been able to cover his tracks. The dogs would've been able to pick up something," I say, discrediting my own theory.

"I think that, when the Senator calls, I'll advise him that, unless the police have come up with some new leads, it's time to ask the public for help in finding his son," I announce, wondering if Mac will offer another idea.

"What if he wasn't disoriented but used the darkness to slip away? Maybe he wanted to get away to see a girl, for instance," Mac theorizes.

It's Mac's turn to discredit her own thought.

"That can't be it because it has the same flaw. How did he get away from the house without leaving a trail of some kind?" Mac asks, shaking her head. "Not to mention that he could've used his liberty time to go see a girl instead of going out with the boys," Mac adds.

"That's my problem with this case. Every time I think that I've figured it out, I have more than one reason why it can't be that," I inform her.

"Well, whether Henderson is responsible or Chissom managed to do this on his own, we have to give them credit for coming up with a good Halloween mystery," Mac states with an appreciative smile.

"What if one or more of the midshipmen are in on it, but it isn't a crime? It's a practical joke that they set up for Halloween," I offer.

"If it were a joke, why wouldn't Chissom have shown up by now?" Mac asks, negating my theory.

"Maybe they thought that it was going to be a cool gag and freak out a couple of little old ladies on the tour who believe in ghosts, and then they'd meet up later and have a laugh about it, but when the police got called, Chissom got scared and hasn't come out of hiding," I reply, but begin to shake my head. "No, that scenario doesn't explain the lack of physical evidence either, which makes it look like he vanished into thin air."

My cellphone rings, and I pick it up.

The caller ID has only a number, but since I dialed the number not that long ago, I recognize it.

"It's the Senator," I inform Mac.

"I'll leave while you talk to him," Mac whispers as I flip open my phone to take the call as she leaves to let me speak with the Senator in private.

**OFFICE OF HOWARD BOSLEY**

**ATTORNEY AT LAW**

**ARLINGTON, VA**

**1300**

I enter to find a man standing to greet me.

"Captain Rabb, thank you for coming to my office to meet with me on behalf of my client."

"So I was correct in assuming from our conversation this morning that Midshipman Henderson won't be joining us, Mr. Bosley."

"Midshipman Henderson's parents asked me to advise their son after he was questioned by the police on the night of the incident. It's on my advice that he isn't willing to speak with you without counsel present, and though the Henderson family and I are concerned about the Senator's missing son, we're in agreement that allowing you to question their son again on a matter that the police have already interrogated him about would interfere with his studies."

"I understand his parents' concern for their son's education and his future career as a naval officer. However, if he has nothing to hide, I don't see why they wouldn't allow me to interview him. I was at the Academy this morning. I could have spoken to him there before his classes like I did his classmates. I'm willing to go back this evening and speak with him there after his classes if that would be more convenient for him..." Remembering the young man's insistence on the phone that his attorney be present, I quickly add, "...and you, too, of course."

"He won't speak with you here, at his school or anywhere else. Have I made myself clear, Captain Rabb?"

"Yes, you've made yourself crystal clear. However, there's a mother who doesn't know if her son is alive or dead, and it could be possible that Midshipman Henderson has information that might help in establishing whether we should be looking for a live person or a corpse, and I believe that, if your client wants to measure up to the standards that'll be required of him as an officer in the Navy, not to mention as a decent human being, he'd step up to help find Midshipman Chissom if he could, even if it meant speaking with me."

"Why are you even involved in this case, Captain Rabb? Are you working for the police?" Mr. Bosley asks, eyeing me curiously.

"No. I'm looking into it at the request of the Secretary of the Navy."

"What's his interest in the missing student?"

"I have no idea, Mr. Bosley."

"Just following orders, then, huh?" Mr. Bosley says with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes, but there is something else." I raise my hand to show him my ring. "As a graduate of the Academy myself, I feel a kinship to the missing midshipman and want to help locate him."

I don't know if finding out that I graduated from the Academy has made a difference or if Mr. Bosley has just resigned himself to the fact that, if the Secretary of the Navy is involved, it means that he can either cooperate with _me_ or the next person who the SecNav sends when I don't get any results.

"Abe...Midshipman Henderson cooperated with the police. I have a copy of the statement that he gave them the night that Chissom disappeared. I also have copies of statements from all of the witnesses from that night as well as a copy of the police report from that night for you. I don't think that a face-to-face interview with young Mr. Henderson is necessary, do you?" Mr. Bosley says, offering a file folder to me.

"I have no way to be certain, of course, until I read the statements. Have you read them, Mr. Bosley?"

"Of course, I have," Mr. Bosley replies indignantly, assuming that I was implying that he wasn't doing his job.

"I ask because then you should be able to tell me if I'll find the answers to some of my questions in these statements. For instance, why was your client agitated at the start of the evening? Why didn't he like Midshipman Chissom?" I stop in order to give Mr. Bosley time to answer.

"The reason why he was upset earlier in the evening isn't relevant to finding young Mr. Chissom. As for your other question, with very different personalities, they weren't the best of friends and didn't hang out with each other outside of a group setting. Not everyone gets along, nothing mysterious in that, and not a motive for committing a crime either."

I think that the wording of Mr. Bosley's response is odd, but it's no proof that he nor his client has committed a crime. However, I suspect that he is hiding something.

I wonder if Bosley is concealing something that Midshipman Henderson has confided to him or if he's keeping a family secret. Either way, it's protected by attorney/client privilege, so I won't push him to reveal it.

If Mr. Bosley doesn't see me as a threat to his client or his family, I stand a better chance of being allowed to interview Midshipman Henderson in the future.

"You've been very helpful, Mr. Bosley. I'll read over the information that you've given me and I'll call you if I have any questions," I say sincerely.

By whatever means he'd come by it, Senator Chissom had provided me with only one document, a copy of the preliminary police report that had a brief synopsis of what the midshipmen had reported that night and the name of one woman who was supposedly the only witness.

Since Senator Chissom wanted me to investigate as quietly and discreetly as possible, I couldn't request the information that Bosley has just given me without sending up a red flag, so Mr. Bosley has been very helpful in that regard.

"I hope you know that I'm only doing my job and that the Hendersons and I all hope that the boy is found alive and well."

"I certainly hope that's the case. Thank you for your time, Mr. Bosley," I say with a raised eyebrow before departing his office.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1630**

I arrived home about fifteen minutes earlier than I would've on a normal work day and was quickly greeted by each of my children once I'd reached the living room.

Once hugs with my young children had been given and received, I excused myself to change my clothes before dinner.

It's become a habit of mine to rid myself of the uniform when I come home for the day because, inside the walls of my home, branch of service or rank doesn't matter. At home, I'm a father and a husband, and my family is my number one priority.

Moments after leaving the living room, I rid myself of my jacket, and by the time I've reached our bedroom, I have my shirt unbuttoned.

I enter the bedroom, tugging my shirt out of the waistband of my pants.

I abandon undressing when I see Mac either lowering our most recent addition to the family into her bassinet or lifting her out of it. It's hard to tell.

The one thing that's clear to me is that Mac is leaning over the bassinet.

I close the door slowly so that it won't make any noise in case it's the former before moving towards the bassinet, but just then my baby girl begins to wail.

"Is she getting up or going down?" I question, keeping my voice low in case I hadn't been as quiet as I'd thought, and my entering the room had awakened Patty and she'd settle down if she didn't hear my voice.

"No reason to be quiet. I thought that she was finally going to sleep in her bed, but no such luck," Mac replies in frustration-laced words as she stands up straight with Patty in her arms.

"So I didn't wake her?" I ask with a hint of relief in my voice.

"I'd like to blame you, but the fact is that she's been like this all day today. She'll fall asleep with someone holding her…just barely stir when I pass her to someone else to give my arms a rest, but the moment that I try to lay her down, she wakes up."

Having reached Mac as she spoke, I place a kiss on her cheek while letting her continue to explain.

"Your mother suggested that she might not be feeling well, but she doesn't have a fever. She's been eating just fine today, too. She hasn't been this way before. I don't understand it." Mac pauses to take an exasperated breath. "Your grandmother said that, without a fever, it's probably something small like something I ate that's given her an upset tummy, but I haven't eaten anything fried or spicy recently."

"Maybe she just missed her daddy today more than usual. Why don't you let me take her for a while?" I say, raising my arms to take Patty from Mac, who's obviously upset by not being able to comfort our daughter today.

"What about your case? Don't you have to work on it this evening?" Mac questions, not releasing the baby to me.

I lower my arms, unsure if Mac really thinks that I need to work or if it's a diversionary tactic because she doesn't want to relinquish her hold on our five-week-old daughter to me, no matter how frustrated she is at not knowing what's causing our baby to fuss.

"I was just doing some poking around so that I could be satisfied that I was giving the Senator sound advice with as much information as I could gather. However, since there's an urgency to the situation, I believe that I've spent as much time on gathering facts as I dare, and that's why I met with the Senator and his wife this afternoon to give my recommendation. After some discussion, they informed me that they'll be making a public appeal this evening for information regarding their son's whereabouts. So, though I wish that I'd found their son, my job is done, and I can be on full-time dad duty tonight if you don't mind me taking over the watch."

Glancing at my open shirt, Mac says, "Why don't you finish changing so that you're comfortable and then you can hold our girl?"

Deciding that it's a good idea to finish changing clothes, I pull my shirt off my shoulders and then remove my t-shirt while Mac, who's still standing next to the bassinet holding Patty, questions me about the Chissoms' choice to speak out tonight.

"Harm, do you think that tonight is the best time for the Chissoms to make a plea? I ask because their press conference might get lost in all of the election coverage that will be taking up the majority of the air time tonight."

"They considered that and decided that it might work in their favor. They're hoping that, by making their plea for information on their son's whereabouts on the six o'clock news that more people than usual will have on their televisions to see the election coverage, but since it'll be on before the polls even close, they don't think that their message will get lost among the election results," I answer while stripping off my pants.

"I hope that it works out for them. I can't imagine what his mother must be going through. I don't even want to think about how crazed I'd be if one of our children were missing."

"Well, I took inventory when I came in, and all of them are accounted for, so you don't need to worry about anything like that."

"All but one," Mac mutters barely audibly. "I'm going to put Patty in her bassinet while you finish getting dressed because I'm going to go call Mattie right now to make sure that she's all right."

I smile at Mac's maternal need to know that _all _of our children are safe.

**LIVING ROOM**

**2210**

I don't usually watch much television, even though my house now has two of the contraptions, but I have been watching the news tonight.

I watched the six o'clock newscast and caught the Senator's plea for information on his son, and now I'm watching the continuing coverage of the election results.

Needing to give my eyes a break from staring at the screen, I turn to Mac, who's currently the one holding Patty. We've been taking turns, and since Patty finished nursing just minutes ago, it's Mac's turn to hold her.

"I've been giving it some thought and I have a theory as to why our baby girl hasn't wanted to be put down all day," I say suddenly.

Mac looks at me with a questioning expression, including a raised eyebrow.

"Sami seemed to be more energetic than usual today. My theory is that, with her sister bouncing off the walls, the house hasn't been as quiet as usual, and Patty was over stimulated. Being held was the only thing that made her feel comfortable enough to sleep. With everyone else in bed now, she might sleep fine in her crib or bassinet."

"I don't want to put her in her crib for the first time after she's had so much trouble sleeping today, but it wouldn't hurt to try to put her in the bassinet in our room again. Don't you want to stay up to see who your new Commander in Chief is? We'll stay with you until you're ready to go to bed."

"The results are already pointing decidedly in one direction, so I don't think that staying up to watch for another couple of hours is going to make any difference. I'm ready to head to bed now."

"Then, if you're ready, let's see about getting some sleep," Mac says as I stand up and reach to lift Patty out of her arms to make it easier for her to stand.


	11. Chapter 11

**PART SEVEN**

**WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2008**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**HENDERSON HOME**

**SILVER SPRINGS, MD**

**0217**

Mrs. Henderson sat up in bed, unsure that she'd really heard anything.

She reached over and put her hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Wake up, wake up," she said, shaking her husband.

"What?" he asked, his voice heavy with sleep and his eyes still shut.

"I heard a noise. I think that someone's in the house," she explained.

"I don't hear anything," he said through a yawn. "Do you remember about a month ago when you woke me up and said that you heard a noise and that someone must be trying to break in? It turned out to be a branch that was brushing against the house. Go back to sleep," he replied grumpily.

"We had that branch cut off, so it isn't that this time," she insisted.

"You shouldn't watch the news before you go to bed. You saw that spot on TV last night about the Chissom boy disappearing, and now you're hearing things," he replied, angry at being awakened.

It was then that they both heard a noise.

"Did you hear that?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, I heard it," he said, pulling back the covers to get out of bed.

"I'll go downstairs and have a look around. You stay here," he said, putting on his slippers.

"Be careful," Mrs. Henderson whispered as her husband pulled on his robe.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**0530**

**HARM'S POV**

The buzz of my alarm forces me to stir, and though it takes me a moment to become awake enough, I quickly notice that I'm alone in bed.

As I reach to shut off the noise that's stifling my thoughts, I can't remember Mac coming back to bed after getting up with Patty for an early morning feeding.

After reluctantly rising from my warm, comfortable bed, I peek into Patty's bassinet and find that my baby girl is in there, sleeping peacefully.

Not wanting to wake Patty, who'd been so fussy yesterday, I quickly and quietly put on my morning workout clothes before leaving the bedroom to find Mac to let her know that I'm up and headed out for a run.

**DEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**0545**

I'd checked the living room, but didn't find anyone there.

I'd found my grandmother, but no Mac when I'd stopped by the kitchen.

My grandmother had informed me that she'd seen Mac when the smell of coffee had brought her to the kitchen and that she'd asked Mac if she'd be keeping her company this morning, but Mac had told her that she had something that she was working on that she needed to finish up in the den.

As I walked out of the kitchen, I wondered for a moment what 'work' Mac could be doing in the den.

Quickly reaching the conclusion that, since she'd been retired for about three weeks shy of a year, her use of the term 'working' must have been Mac's way of saying that she needed a few minutes alone, so I discontinued my thoughts on the matter as I entered the short hall that would lead me to the den.

Given my feeling that the use of the word 'working' hadn't been a literal one, I was surprised when I reached the doorway of the den and saw my wife squinting at the computer monitor.

"Do you think that you might need glasses?" I ask.

The words had left my mouth. It was too late to take them back, so I prepare for her to scold me, afraid that she'd take my concern of her squinting as a reference to her age.

"What did you say?" Mac asks, momentarily glancing away from the monitor to look at me.

Mac must have been far too preoccupied with the information that she was reading on the screen for my comment to have registered with her. Only the fact that I spoke caught her attention.

"I said that you're going to go blind staring at the screen so hard. You're squinting. You should take a break and tell me what's piqued your interest so much that you didn't come back to bed and has you in here at this hour of the day," I say, happy for the opportunity to express my concern about her vision in a different manner.

**MAC'S POV**

I'd been so intently reading all that I could find on Decatur House and about the ghost of Commodore Stephen Decatur that's said to be in residence that I hadn't realized that I was squinting nor the fact that I'd been doing research for forty-five minutes, minus the three minutes and seventeen seconds that I'd left the room to go get a cup of coffee from the kitchen, until I heard Harm's voice, breaking my concentration.

"I came back to bed. I just didn't stay there. I had a dream last night that gave me an idea about your missing midshipman. I dismissed it at first by telling myself that I've been watching too many cartoons with the children or too many mystery movies with your grandmother. When I couldn't let go of the idea, I decided that, to convince myself that it was a stupid idea so that I could get some sleep, I'd check it out. However, now that I've started looking into it, I don't know if the idea is that far-fetched after all. So don't laugh when I tell you about it," I instruct, no doubt making Harm wonder if I've gone crazy.

"Was it a dream or was it one of those visions "things" you have?" Harm asks, apparently unable to think of a word that accurately describes my intuitive knowledge of events.

"Since I don't have a personal connection to the midshipman, I'd have to say that it was just a dream," I answer.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense. What's your idea and what have you found out about it?" Harm questions anxiously.

"My idea is that maybe there's a door that allowed the midshipman to be either grabbed or slip away in the dark," I begin to explain.

"Like a secret passage opening?" Harm questions, momentarily interrupting my train of thought.

"Could be, but I haven't found anything that suggests a passageway. However, I have found that it wasn't uncommon for houses built in the early 1800's, like Decatur's that was built in 1818, for a door to be placed in what would seem to be an odd place, not as an exit, but to cover an opening to keep supplies stored out of sight. For instance, such a door in the kitchen would've been used to hide the location of a void where flour, rice and beans were stored, the equivalent of a pantry today. A door in a study might have been used to conceal the location of the storage place for tobacco or gunpowder."

"Interesting, since Chissom disappeared from the study," Harm comments.

"I watched the news clips from that night again, but all of the reporters filmed outside, no doubt because the interior was still considered a crime scene. I did find some pictures of the study on the internet when I searched Decatur House, but I didn't see anything that looked like a door," I inform Harm.

"Well, it was a good idea. An old, seldom-used door opening and closing would explain the creaking noises that were reported," Harm said, ready to move on.

"I might have given up there, too, but according to what I read, in high-end homes of the time, which the Decatur House would've been considered, the doors were often hidden so as not to take away from the architecture or decor of the room when entertaining. When you came in, I was looking at a diagram of the house on file with the Historical Society, but I didn't see any unexplained doors or voids shown behind the walls."

"An open door that leads to the outside would explain the cool air that the 'ghost lady' said that she felt. The click that she heard could've been the door being shut," Harm says, speculating out loud. "A diagram isn't a blueprint. Maybe it was on the original plans, but not on the diagram that was provided on the internet. Of course, I don't know why a storage area door would be omitted. However, if it were a passage that provided a way into the house, they may have deleted it from the diagram for security purposes," Harm suggests.

"I guess, but do you think that there were blueprints filed back then and, if so, would the building office still have them today?" I ask.

"My guess is probably not, but it wouldn't hurt to make a call or two."

Harm reaches for a pen and a notepad on the desk.

"None of the offices will be open now, though, so why don't you try to go get some sleep? I'll call the building office, the Historical Society ... " His voice trails off as he writes.

"Since it's in Lafayette Square, an old and historic part of DC, maybe the Library of Congress or the Smithsonian Institute would have the original plans or a copy of them," I suggest.

"Won't hurt to put them on the list for me to call when I get into the office this morning," Harm says, immediately beginning to jot down the additional locations on his notepad.

"Are you sure that you're going to have time to make the calls?" I ask.

Harm gives me a puzzled looked.

"Given that the election results last night have probably thrown the Pentagon in to a tizzy, you might not have time to make the calls. I wouldn't mind doing some 'leg work' for you to make sure that it gets looked into this morning," I say, volunteering to help.

**HARM'S POV**

"You may have a point about how much time I'll have since the SecNav has been biting his nails, worrying, as he put it, that the 'wrong' party would be elected into office, but I should be able to find the time to make a few calls," I say, not at all convinced of it myself.

"Since you don't know what kind of chaos you might be walking into this morning, let me make the calls because I know that I'll have time to make them. I really don't mind lending a hand, especially if it helps reunite the midshipman and his family before Thanksgiving," Mac pushes, the eagerness to get involved in finding Chissom is evident to me.

"If you don't mind, I don't see why you can't make the calls," I say to her, mentally patting myself on the back for not saying out loud 'since there isn't any danger in you making phone calls, you can make them.'

"If you find out for sure that there is a void or if you find that there's something on the blueprint that should be checked out, give me a call," I say, giving in to her desire to help.

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**THE PENTAGON**

**1327**

Change may be the mantra of the President Elect, but the word of the day here would be 'chaos' or 'crazy', I think as I collapse into my desk chair for the first time today.

Come to think of it, I didn't get any lunch.

That may be one reason why I'm feeling so sluggish. My blood sugar is probably out of whack.

I'll just look at these ten or so phone messages that I was handed when I got back to my office, and if there are no urgent calls for me to return, I'm going to slip out of my office and get something to eat.

Maybe I can even step outside for a little fresh air before trying to wrap things up here so that I can leave for the day on time.

The first three messages don't have any details, and I don't recognize the names, so they can wait until after I've gotten a bite to eat.

The next one is from Mac. The only notation is: She'll call back later.

Figuring that if she'd found something, she'd have left more information, I move to the next pink message form, thinking that it's a good thing that I let Mac make the calls since I don't think that I could have squeezed them into my morning and would always wonder that if I'd made them if we'd have found Chissom or at least a lead as to what happened to him.

The next one is from Senator Chissom.

He probably wants to either pat me on the back for advising him to go public or he wants to curse me for all the false leads that it created. Either way, with only the notation to return his call on the form, I want to wait until I have something in my stomach before I call him back.

I move to the next message and the next.

Neither one was important enough for the caller to leave an actual message, so that's two more calls that can wait until I finish lunch.

Message number eight is another one from Mac. This time there's a notation: Checking on something ... will let you know if it pans out.

Since this last message from her is time-stamped two hours ago... I glance at only the caller name on the last message slip in my hand to make sure that it isn't from Mac. No, it's from Senator Chissom.

Mac hasn't called back, which probably means that she either hasn't finished her research or it didn't pan out.

I pause for a moment to consider my options: Call her back now, call her when I get back from eating something or, since I should be in my office for the rest of the day after I get back from lunch, I can wait until she calls back to tell me if she's found something.

Before I can decide which one I'm going to do, my intercom buzzes, and I'm informed that Mac is on the line wanting to speak with me.

I depress the button on the phone that will connect me with Mac.

"Hey, Mac, I just got your messages."

"I knew that you'd be busy today. That's why I decided to investigate the Decatur House myself."

"Do you mean that you toured the house?" I ask hesitantly, hoping that taking a tour of the place is what she means by 'investigate'.

"We did a little more than tour the house," Mac says in a tone that registers with me as 'don't be angry with me'.

"Mac, what do you mean by 'a little more than tour'?" I ask in a tone that should convey to her not only my curiosity, but my apprehension at hearing her answer, as well.

"We found the hidden door. I didn't get a chance to see what was behind the door because, once the door was open, the staff ushered us from the study to the next room on the tour. We just finished the tour, and uniformed officers have asked us to stay to give statements to detectives who are on their way, which leads me to believe that the responding patrol officers found something," she replies.

"You keep saying 'we'. Who's with you?" I ask.

"Since I didn't know how long I was going to be gone, I had to bring Patty with me, and when your grandmother asked why I was going to a tourist spot on the spur of the moment and I told her that I was helping you with your case, she wanted to come with me. She said that her bad guy disabling days were over, but that she could take care of Patty if I needed to kick someone's butt," she informs me.

I'm in shock, I guess, and I'm left momentarily speechless.

"It seemed like a good solution at the time," she says apologetically, like the plan that my grandmother had only now doesn't sound like such a good idea.

"Where are you now?" I ask, trying not to sound like the news that she's stumbled across a possible murder scene with our baby girl and my grandmother in tow hasn't rattled me.

"We're fine, Harm."

I guess the worry came through in my voice.

"We're in the gift shop at the Decatur House."

"Stay there. I'll be there as soon as I can," I state firmly, prepared to hear an argument from her that, since I'm busy, it isn't necessary.

"If you can get away, I think that it might be a very good idea for you to come here. For one thing, it wouldn't hurt for you to be here to explain to the police that we were working for you when we give our statements and, for you, it will let you see for yourself that we're okay."

"I'm on my way, Mac," I respond, pleasantly surprised that she didn't offer any resistance to my going there.

"Thanks." I hear her say before I have the receiver lowered from my ear.

I've barely hung up the receiver before my intercom buzzes again.

"Captain Rabb, Senator Chissom is on the phone for you, Sir."

"I'm on my way out. Tell him that I've stepped out of the office and that he'll have to leave a message."

"He's been holding, Sir. He said that it's important that he speak with you, Sir."

"Very, well, I'll take his call, but take a message if anyone else calls."

"Yes, Sir."

I lift the receiver and, once I know that I'm connected with the Senator, I say, "Senator Chissom, I'm sorry to keep you waiting -"

"I need for you to meet with me, Captain," the Senator says, cutting me off.

"When, Sir?" I ask, though I have a sneaking suspicion that he doesn't want to wait.

"Immediately, Captain Rabb."

"As I'm sure it is with your office today, Sir, things are hectic here. I was on the other line concerning an urgent matter that I need to take care of now. So, Senator, I can't make it by your office at the moment."

"I'm not at the office, Captain. You deal with whatever problem it is that you need to resolve and then come to my home," Senator Chissom says, anxiousness in his voice.

"Senator, I don't know how long I'll be tied up on this latest matter, Sir. Perhaps it would be better if we made an appointment to meet tomorrow," I state, unsure why he sounds so impatient. He can't possibly know about the discovery of the door at the Decatur House yet.

"I need to see you today. So, no matter how late it is, you're to come to my home to see me, Captain Rabb. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir. I'll see you later today."

After the Senator hangs up, I don't have time to dwell on his odd behavior. I need to get to the Decatur House to see what Mac and my grandmother have uncovered there.

**GIFT SHOP**

**DECATUR HOUSE**

**LAFAYETTE SQUARE**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**1448**

I think what I expected to see when I arrived at the Decatur House was lots of patrol cars creating a police barricade around the building and a dozen or so uniformed police officers to whom I'd have to explain, one at a time of course, what business I had here before they'd let me enter the gift shop. However, when I arrived, I was able to park without seeing even one policeman.

In fact, if it hadn't been for the two patrol cars, the crime scene unit van and a dark sedan with government license plates on it, which I'd bet belongs to the detectives who Mac mentioned, there'd be no signs outside that anything was amiss on the inside.

I enter the gift shop and scan the room.

Mac and my grandmother are nowhere in site, so concern for the safety of my family starts to rise higher within me.

Looking around again and not seeing a police officer or a person with a note pad or some other sign that might suggest that they're a detective who I could ask the whereabouts of my wife and grandmother, I stand frozen in the small gift shop, wondering if I should go out and look for Mac's car to be sure that she's still here or if my next step should be to go to the counter and see if they can help me by telling me where my wife and grandmother might be or where I can find the police who are investigating the hidden door.

Deciding that, if the police had allowed them to leave during the hour and some minutes that it took me to take the Senator's call, get out of the Pentagon to my car and drive here, Mac would've called me on my cellphone to inform me that the police had spoken with them and that they were leaving here, I come to the conclusion that she must still be here.

I'm making my way to the counter when I make eye contact with a young woman who's standing near the cash register.

"May I help you find something, Sir," she asks very politely.

"I'm looking for someone," I begin before hearing the familiar voice of the younger Sarah Rabb.

"He's looking for me," Mac says from behind me, sounding apologetic.

I turn to face her and see that she's cradling Patty in her arms.

"Mac, where's my grandmother?" I begin while taking a long stride towards her. "I thought that I'd find you together."

"We were together, but Patty needed to eat, so I went to the ladies' room for some privacy to feed her. Besides, the timing couldn't have been better because I've finished feeding her and returned to the gift shop just as you came looking for me."

Having come to stand in front of Mac as she spoke, I reach for my baby girl and, as Mac allows me to take her, she says, "As for your grandmother, she's giving her statement to Detective Tanner now."

Mac leans in closer than necessary for us to pass the baby between us and whispers, "I overheard one of the CSU team tell the detective that there was blood on the wall inside, but there's been no mention of a body nor have I seen or heard anyone call for an ME. So I don't know what to make of the fact that they found blood."

"Harm, your timing couldn't be better. I've just finished giving the nice detective my statement, not that I had much to say other than it's always the wall sconce that opens the door to the secret passage in the movies. That's why I pulled on it when Mac told me that we were in the room from where your missing midshipman vanished," my grandmother says as she enters the gift shop from what I imagine is the main house with a middle-aged man walking next to her, who I presume is the detective whom she mentioned.

"A passage ... not a void?" Mac inquires.

"I got a look in there. It's definitely a passage, not a void, but whether it goes to another room or to the outside, I couldn't tell, but it definitely isn't just a storage area," my grandmother answers.

"I thought that we talked about not mentioning that to anyone, Mrs. Rabb," the man states with a pleading gaze before turning to look more directly at me. "Captain Rabb, I'm Detective Tanner. It's nice to see that you've made it because I have some questions for you, the least of which is why this nice woman thinks that the missing midshipman belongs to you in some way."

"I wouldn't say that he belongs to me, but being a former midshipman, there's a certain kinship with the missing student that makes me a bit curious as to what happened to him," I state, hoping that I don't have to tell the detective about being asked to help the Senator find his son because that, in my opinion, wouldn't be in keeping with being discreet as the Senator requested.

"So, tell me. Did these ladies see this case on the news and decide to go all Jessica Fletcher on you and investigate on their own or were they poking around a crime scene on your orders?" Detective Tanner asks.

"Young man, I don't think that I like your tone," my grandmother states before I can answer.

His tone or the reference to the woman in the TV show who wrote crime novels and was an amateur sleuth didn't go over well with Mac either, because I see her nostrils flare, and she's about to speak when I decide that perhaps someone in more control of their emotions needs to be the one to respond. Though I've been the one who's acted on emotions more often, Mac is just five weeks postpartum and much more emotional than usual right now.

"My wife and I are attorneys, and we've dealt with more than our fair share of criminal cases, so though they weren't acting on orders from me, having had discussions after seeing the latest news report on the missing midshipman, the three of us have tossed around some scenarios, and the one that my wife had last night seemed to be pretty plausible. So, as you can image, she felt more than a little compelled to check on her theory before bringing it to authorities, since, without evidence, you might have dismissed her as some crack pot. However, it seems that her instincts were right, and now you have a lead. So, if it's acceptable to you, I'll just take my family home now, and leave you to follow up on what you've found here."

"I have their names and contact information, so they can go. If I have any questions, I'll contact them."

"Thank you," I say, surprised that both my grandmother and wife stayed quiet while I spoke to the detective.

With the detective following us out, my grandmother leans in close to me as if she's relying on me for support to walk, but it's to whisper to me, "I'll tell you what else I know when we get out from under the watchful eye of that detective."

**NEXT TO MAC'S MINIVAN**

**OUTSIDE THE DECATUR HOUSE**

**LAFAYETTE SQUARE**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**1504**

"Are you going to be able to come home now?" Mac asks as I shut the sliding back door after having put Patty securely in her car seat.

"That detective isn't following us as closely now, but he's still watching us. I can tell you what I think happened at home," my grandmother interjects.

"Well, you're going to have to wait until later to tell me. Senator Chissom called me. He wants to see me today, and he wouldn't take no for an answer, so I'll be home after I see him. Then the two of you can tell me all about your little adventure here today and explain why you thought that it was a good idea to bring Patty along on this little caper."

I don't know if my grandmother and Mac ignored my statement or are just too preoccupied with the mystery to have heard me, because neither one of them addresses my concern about them being here to investigate Mac's theory.

"There weren't any news reporters here. How would he find out that we found the door?" my grandmother asks.

"I don't think that he knows about it, but he obviously has something that he wants to discuss with me, and it's something that he couldn't or wouldn't tell me over the phone," I answer.

"Do you think that there's been a ransom demand?" Mac asks.

"Could be, I guess, but if there has, why would he want to see me?" I counter.

"Maybe he wants to tell you so that you'll stop looking into it," Mac interjects.

"Well, I have one sure-fire way to find out what he wants, and that's to go meet with him," I reply

"It's much more fun to stand here and speculate, don't you think?" my grandmother asks with a grin.

"Yes, but it isn't very warm. So let's go home, have a hot cup of cocoa and speculate about it while Harm goes to meet with the Senator," Mac answers.

"It would be more fun if I went with Harm, but something to warm my bones does sound good, so I'll go home peacefully with Mac," my grandmother says, teasing me.

"Thanks, Grandma," I reply, shaking my head at the newest sleuth in the family as I open the passenger door for her.

* * *

I know it ends abruptly, but that's because the day continues in Part 8.


	12. Chapter 12

**PART EIGHT**

**WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2008 - continued**

**STUDY**

**SENATOR CHISSOM'S HOME**

**ROCKVILLE, MARYLAND**

**1600**

"Right this way, Captain Rabb," the butler says as he steps away from the front door towards the back of the house.

After leading me from the front door through a hall, we arrive at a room that I'd call a study or a library, since the first thing that catches my eye is an entire wall of bookshelves loaded with books.

"Please have a seat. The Senator will be with you in a moment, Captain Rabb."

The fact that I'm not sure why I'm here makes me antsy, and I don't really want to sit down, so I remain standing as the butler closes the door as he leaves the room.

I glance at some of the books on the right side of the room and, after noting titles of classics mixed with biographies of some famous politicians, I look towards the large oak desk that's positioned at the center of the wall at the far end.

Behind the desk on the wall is a shadow box that contains the American flag, so I step closer to have a better look.

The contents of the shadow box tell me that Senator Chissom is a retired Navy admiral, something that I didn't know about him ... not that I needed to for what he wanted me to do, but I find it interesting that he didn't mention that fact to me.

There are some picture frames on his desk, and judging from the pictures in the frames, my guess would be that he has a wife and two children.

The wedding photo of a young woman and a man suggests that his daughter is older than his son and is married, meaning that the photo of two young boys that's also on his desk must be the Senator's grandsons and not his children when they were younger.

My eyes move to the opposite wall, and I notice a painting above the fireplace, which appears to be in a hand-carved wood frame.

It isn't a portrait of the Senator, but instead it's of a famous naval hero.

The detailed work of the frame suggests to me that the frame dates back to the same time period as the man in the portrait.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Captain Rabb."

His voice startles me a little since I didn't hear him enter the room.

"Not a problem, Senator," I say, though I am a little put out by the fact that he _had_ kept me waiting since I got the impression that what he wanted to talk to me about was urgent."

"Please have a seat. I want to get your legal advice on a hypothetical situation," he says, moving to his desk, presumably to have a seat behind it since he was motioning for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of it.

The thought of how a hypothetical situation could be classified as urgent by anyone is quickly pushed aside as I realize that, if the Senator had told me over the phone that he wanted to discuss a 'what if' situation, I would've had dinner with my family before I came to see him.

As I take a step towards one of the leather chairs that's sitting in front of his desk, he continues to speak.

"Let's say that a person comes across information about an open police case. Is that person under any obligation to report what he knows to the police?"

"Senator, it's difficult to give legal advice concerning a what-if situation since most often the real situation would have details that weren't part of the example given. In the scenario that you've just given me, for instance, it would depend on what information was acquired, how it was obtained ... so many variables that it isn't wise for me to give you legal advice on a situation like that."

"I can appreciate that you're reluctant, but, in general, what would you say to that person?" he asks while dropping into his desk chair.

Though I'm getting the distinct impression that we aren't talking about a pretend scenario but a specific and real situation, I decide that I need to build his trust by answering his questions before he'll tell me the details of the situation that he's now talking about in what-if terms.

"In general, I'd say that he'd be obligated to tell the police or be at risk of being charged as an accomplice after the fact, Senator."

"What if no crime was committed?" he asks while shrugging his shoulders.

"If there's an open police case, then I'd say that it's a good bet that a crime _was_ committed."

"What if it seemed like a crime might have been committed, but, in reality, there was no crime?"

"If someone knowingly reports that a crime was committed when it wasn't, then they'd be guilty of filing a false police report, but, if acting in good faith, the police we're called and an investigation was begun, then the person who filed the report wouldn't be in trouble. However, if someone has knowledge that no crime had been committed and doesn't report it, charges could be filed against them when it comes to light that they had information that would've stopped any more time and tax dollars from being wasted on something that wasn't a crime so that the police could focus on a crime that _has_ been committed."

Standing, Senator Chissom asks coyly, "So you don't believe that this person would be in any trouble by coming forward?"

"Senator, without knowing the specifics, I'm not comfortable with answering that question."

"If I give you specifics, will you be bound by attorney/client privilege or do I have to give you some kind of retainer before I can speak freely?" he inquires, moving out from behind his desk.

"I was asked by the SecNav to assist you in any way possible, so I'd have to say that I'm ethically obligated to keep anything private that you tell me, Sir."

My gut is telling me that he knows something about his son's disappearance, though I don't believe that he's known from the onset or he wouldn't have gone to such lengths to bring me in on the case.

"Very good, then," the Senator says with a nod.

"Senator, since I'm sure that I'm not the only person from whom you've been seeking help to find your son, if one of them has found out something about your son's disappearance, then, to protect your career and your reputation, Sir, you need to have them turn it over to the police," I reply.

Having moved to the door while I spoke, the Senator opens it and nods to someone who's standing outside the room before closing the door.

"I'm not concerned about me. I'm worried about my son and whether he'll have a future when this comes out."

"Why would your son's future be at risk, Sir?" I ask, still acting as if I don't know that the questions that he's posed have been about his son's case.

"I'm afraid that why he didn't come forward sooner will be called into question," he replies just a second before there's a light knock on the door.

Senator Chissom opens his office door and a young man steps over the threshold.

"Captain Rabb, this is my son, John Paul Chissom," the Senator says, introducing the young man as he steps farther into the room.

To say that I'm a little shocked would be an understatement as Midshipman Chissom starts to come to attention, but then, whether it's because we're in his home or if it's because he realizes that he's in civilian attire, he abandons that and extends his hand.

"Captain Rabb, do you think that you can help me get out of this mess?" the young Mr. Chissom asks.

I grasp his hand and, as the manly form of greeting begins, I reply, "I won't know if there's anything that I can do for you until after I've heard your story."

The young man nods as our arms drop back to our sides.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Senator Chissom says before leaving his study.

"Where do you want me to start?" John Paul Chissom asks as his father closes the door, leaving his son and me in the room alone.

"At the beginning," I respond.

John Chissom looks at the painting on the wall that I'd been looking at when the Senator had come in.

"The man in that painting is where it starts," he says before his voice starts to trial off.

"Why don't we sit down?" I suggest.

As if he hasn't heard me, he continues to stare at the painting as he asks, "Do you know who that is?"

"I do. It's John Paul Jones."

"Yes, Sir," he says, confirming my correct response.

"This painting has been passed down from generation to generation and, someday, it will hang in my home ... if I haven't disgraced the family legacy so much that I'm not skipped over," he explains sadly.

The distant sound of his voice tells me that this is a young man who has a lot on his mind.

"You're a direct descendant of John Paul Jones?" I question for conformation.

"Yes, on my mother's side," he says before turning around to face me for the first time since his father left the room.

"I'm sure that you're wondering what a sailor who lived more than two centuries ago has to do with what happened to me," he says, beginning to pace.

"I think I have some idea. You're named after a famous naval hero. His portrait hangs in your home. His remains are interred at the Naval Academy Chapel."

"How did you know that?" he asks as if he's surprised that I was aware of it.

I lift my hand to show him my ring. "I'm a graduate of the Academy."

"Oh," he responds, looking embarrassed.

"At home or at school, there's no escaping who you are or what everyone is expecting from you, given your lineage. There must be a lot of pressure on you. That's why you ran away, wasn't it, to get away from that pressure?" I say, completing my original thought of what he must experience before asking him if he was running from who he is.

"I didn't run away," he replies defensively.

"I can't say that I understand having a sailor as famous as John Paul Jones in my family tree, but I am the third generation of Navy pilots in my family, and when I was at the Academy, there was a time when I didn't think that I could measure up to the past generations and thought that I should be something else instead."

"You sound like you understand..." he says with a sigh as he drops into one of the chairs in front of his father's desk. "...but I didn't run away," he reiterates as if to convince me.

"Then tell me what happened," I say, taking a seat next to him.

"I didn't run away, but I did take advantage of the opportunity to disappear. Then, when I found out that people were looking for me, I knew that I couldn't just show up at school and have everything be okay. Finally, I came home, told my father the whole story, and he said that you might be able to help me, so he called you. I took what I thought was going to be the easy way out, but I didn't think things through, and I have no idea how to fix my fuck up." He rubs his hand over his face before asking, "Do you think that I'll go to jail for what I've done?"

"I don't know. Your fellow midshipmen said that you all went to Decatur House as the second part of your hunt for ghosts that night. Are their statements accurate?"

"Yes, Sir. We stopped at Middleton Tavern and, after we ate, we headed to the Decatur House."

"Then why don't you start by telling me what happened at Decatur House on Halloween that started this whole mystery, and then I'll be able to establish if you've done anything criminal?"

"Okay. We got to the Decatur House and we were taking the tour. We'd been going through rooms for about ten minutes, give or take, when we reached the Commodore's study. We hadn't been in the room for very long when the lights went out. I didn't think much of the lights going out, but then I heard this moan like someone was in pain."

I know from reading the police report that the staff of Decatur House admitted to being responsible for the lights going off and the moan that he's mentioned.

"The lights going out was one thing, but the moan ... I hadn't been expecting anything like that, so, though I wasn't scared, I kind of jumped, you know like when someone startles you by coming up behind you. Anyway, when I startled, I reached out for something to grab hold of to get my bearings, but, in the dark, I couldn't see anything and was groping for the wall. Just when I was beginning to think that I hadn't been as close to the wall as I'd thought I was when the lights went out, my fingers touched something, but when I backed up and leaned against what I thought was the wall, it gave way."

From the brief exchange that I had with Mac and my grandmother a little while ago, I know that what he must have touched was the wall sconce.

"I heard a squeak, I guess you'd call it. It was the same sound that my grandmother's old screen door used to make when you opened and closed it."

Judging from his description of the sound, I believe that what he's calling a squeak but others called a creak was the hidden door opening and closing.

"Then I hit the floor, and the next thing I remember was waking up in what I thought was still the dark study."

I suspect that the 'thud' that was reported was the sound of the midshipman's body landing on the floor.

"How long did it take you to realize that you weren't in the study any more?" I ask.

"I'm not sure how long it was. My head hurt," he begins, reaching up and putting his hand against the back of his head. "I felt a little dizzy when I sat up, so I just stayed there on the floor for a few minutes, waiting for the lightheadedness to go away and hoping that the lights would come back on so that I could see, but I think that I must have passed out again, because I remember waking up lying on the floor again."

"You hit your head when you fell?" I ask, thinking that hitting his head could explain the blood that the police found.

"Yes. I've still got a pretty good-sized lump back there."

"How's your head feeling now? Do you feel dizzy?" I ask because his memory of waking up would suggest that he hit his head hard enough that he was knocked unconscious.

"I'm not dizzy, but I have one mean headache."

I have to make a decision about whether to get him to the hospital now or have him give me his full statement first, knowing that, once we arrive at the hospital, if I haven't informed the police that he's been located, the hospital will notify them, and I may not get his statement before he's questioned by the police.

Unsure if I'm acting in my client's best interest by putting off medical attention, I decide that, after five days, he can wait a few more minutes so that I can get all of the information that I need before calling the authorities, so I ask my next question.

"Once you came to and stayed that way, what did you do?" I ask, hoping to move the story forward a little more quickly.

"Let's see ... once I found my way out of that passage...tunnel...whatever it was..."

That answers one of my questions. He found his own way out. No one helped him.

The pause in his statement makes me wonder if he's having some memory problems, and if so, am I doing the right thing by waiting to take him to see a doctor until after he tells me his version of what happened the night that he disappeared?

Realizing that I don't know how long he's been at his parents' home, I ask, "Have you seen a doctor?"

"No. Do you think I should?"

"Yes, because you probably have a concussion, but if you're feeling okay at the moment. I'd like for you to finish telling me what happened and how you got here."

"I'm okay. Let's get this over with. Now, where was I?"

"You'd found your way out of the tunnel," I answer.

"When I fell, I must have broken my watch, because I remember looking at it, but the crystal was broken and I couldn't tell the time. So I don't know what time it was. I just know that it was dark outside."

"Once you got outside, did you look for your friends or see the police hovering around?" I ask.

"When I came out of the house, my head hurt and I wanted to lie down. I don't remember seeing any police or even flashing lights, but I did look in the parking lot to see if Ellery's car was there. It wasn't, so I figured that they'd left me there and taken off as a Halloween prank."

"What did you do next?" I ask.

"I wasn't too steady on my feet and I bumped into someone. I think they thought that I was drunk, so they offered me a ride home."

"They offered you a ride home? So you've been here since then?" I ask, shocked at this new information.

"No, thinking that the guys would show up at Henderson's parents' house because we always seem to end up there at some point on weekend liberty, I gave them their address in Silver Springs. They dropped me off there, but the others weren't there. No one was home. Henderson had told us the combination to the cellar door, so I used it to get in. My head hurt, and I just wanted to lie down on the couch in the basement and wait for them."

He has a distant look in his eyes.

"Then the other midshipmen have been hiding you?" I question, wanting to know if he's been able to stay out of sight because he had help.

"No, none of them knew that I was in the Hendersons' basement. They never showed up. Well, I don't think they did, at least. I mean, I got in, found some aspirin, lay down on the couch and went to sleep, hoping that, when I woke up, my headache would be gone and I'd be able to think clearly. If they came in, I didn't hear them, and I don't remember anyone trying to wake me."

"So how did you get from the Hendersons' basement here to your parents' house?" I ask to move me closer to the question of when he got here.

"I called a cab and left the Henderson place the same way I got in."

"Was that this morning?" I ask, remembering that Mr. Bosley had said that there had been a break-in attempt at the Hendersons' this morning. Maybe it wasn't that, but Chissom leaving his hideaway instead.

"Yes, but how did you know?" Midshipman Chissom asks.

"Lucky guess," I reply coyly, not wanting to reveal how I got the information. "Why did you pick today to come home? Just get hungry?" I ask, directing us back to the topic of where he's been and what he's been doing for the last five days.

"No, there's a stocked fridge in the Hendersons' basement, so I had food," he says, answering my second question first. "I hadn't been doing much, mostly sleeping the first day or two. Then I started to feel a little better. I'd been doing so poorly in Naval History. A descendant of the great John Paul Jones, and I was barely making an average grade. I didn't want to go back. I watched movies, played video games and watched some television. I was just enjoying not having to go to class or study, not having the pressure that comes with being John Paul Chissom, but last night I was watching TV and saw my dad asking for information on my whereabouts. I was stunned at first. Not once had I given a moment's thought about the fact that my parents might be worried or that the police would be looking for me, thinking that something sinister had happened to me."

"Your father was on at 1800 last night, but you stayed at the Hendersons' home until this morning. Why?" I ask, puzzled by his actions.

"Once I saw my father on the news and the shock wore off, I started to freak out. I mean, I realized that, for a few days of relaxation, I'd screwed up my whole life. I'd been UA from the Academy for days, so my future in the Navy was over. The police were looking for me, but I hadn't been kidnapped, murdered or anything. I'd been hiding because I was afraid of failure ... of letting down my family. I needed time to think. No one knew where I was, so I just stayed put until I decided that things would be worse for me if I kept letting everyone look for me and worry about me."

"Why did you come here and not go back to the Academy?" I ask.

"I knew that my mother would be the most upset, and though my father and I aren't as close, I know that he loves me, and he _is_ a Senator, so I figured that, if anyone could help me get out of the mess that I was in, it would be my father."

"What did you do when you got here?" I ask.

"First, I went to my mom's room and told her that I was okay, but that I was in trouble. Then, after she hugged me for like ten minutes, crying the whole time, she called my father at his office and had him come home, but because of the election last night, he couldn't leave immediately. When he did get home a few hours ago, he brought me in here and tried to call you. You weren't available, so he had me tell him what I just told you and then he called you again, but you still weren't in. I was going to go to the police, but he told me that I could go upstairs to take a nap, take a shower, get something to eat, whatever, but not to leave the house until I talked to you and got your legal advice." He inhales deeply before asking, "Now that I've told you the whole story, do you think that they'll put me in jail?"

"I didn't hear anything that would be considered criminal in what you've told me. An error in judgment, perhaps, but that isn't a crime."

"Then, what do I do now?" the midshipman asks me.

"You get the clothing and watch that you were wearing, and we'll get you to a hospital to see if they can confirm that you had or have a concussion."

"Shouldn't I go to the police first and put an end to them looking for me?" he asks, apparently thinking much more clearly today.

"I'm going to call them and I'm sure that they'll send a detective to the hospital to get your statement."

"What about the Academy? Do you think that I'll be able to go back?"

Since he was having doubts and, in order to understand if I should be forming a plea for no punishment at the Academy along with a defense of his actions with the police, I ask, "Do you want to go back?"

"Yes! I know that it's hard to believe, but I really do want to be a naval officer like my ancestors, like my father. I just had some moments of doubt, but I'd like to carry on my family's tradition of naval service. Do you think that it's possible for me to get back in?"

"I think that it's possible, but it might be a tough sell unless the doctor can confirm a head injury."

"How will that help?" he asks with a faint hint of hope in his voice.

"If you've suffered a significant trauma to the head, I can argue that your judgment was impaired and that, under normal circumstances, you would've handled the situation differently."

"Do you think that it'll work, Captain Rabb?"

"I think that it might, but let's take this one step at a time and get you to a hospital," I reply, standing to leave the study and the Chissom home.

"Yes, Sir," he says, standing to leave with me.

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**2257**

Since Mac knew that I'd gone to the Chissom home to meet with the Senator, when I called her to tell her to hug the kids good night for me because I wasn't going to be home until after they'd gone to bed and for her not to wait up for me, I wasn't surprised that she guessed that there had been a break in the midshipman's case.

I'm sure that Mac would like to hear the details of what happened this evening, and I'd like to hear her explanation of why she took it upon herself to go to the Decatur House with my grandmother and baby daughter in tow, but I'm tired, so I'm hoping that she's asleep as I enter our bedroom.

Though I'm tired, I can't resist stopping to look in the bassinet.

My little angel is sleeping peacefully.

After kissing my finger and placing it on my baby girl's plump cheek, I move away from her bassinet to my side of the bed.

Having stripped down to my boxers, I lift the covers, eager to put this day behind me.

Settling my head into my pillow, I close my eyes.

It's then that Mac rolls over to me.

"Did you find the midshipman?" she asks in a sleepy voice as she snuggles into my side and places her head on my chest.

I wrap my arm around her as I reply, "Sort of."

"You found his body?" she inquires with sadness in her voice as she lifts her head off my chest, preparing to hear the details if I want to talk about it.

"He's alive," I inform her quickly, hoping that the thought that he'd been found dead hasn't disturbed her and that she'll be able to easily go back to sleep.

"That's good," she says with relief before resting her head back on my chest.

"I'll tell you all about it in the morning," I say, yawning.

I feel her nod in agreement against my chest.

During our brief conversation, my body has become heavy, relaxed and ready for sleep, so if Mac says anything else, I won't hear it.


	13. Chapter 13

**PART NINE**

**THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 2008**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0527**

**MAC'S POV**

Having finished feeding her, I took Patty to the nursery and placed our sleepy daughter down in her crib before returning to our bedroom.

Maybe I'm being overprotective, but I don't want Patty to be in the room with us when I talk to Harm in case it escalates into an argument since I know that he was upset with me for taking her and his grandmother to the Decatur House yesterday afternoon.

I move to his side of the bed and, since he's on his back where I can see his face, I stand quietly watching him sleep.

I hate to wake him since I know that he got home late, but I feel that I need to explain to him that I didn't leave the house without considering the situation into which I might be putting myself _and_ them.

I could wait and talk to him when he brings the matter up to me, but that's what I've been doing when it comes to how he feels about me since my surgery a few weeks ago, and waiting for the day that he wants to talk about _that_ is enough.

I'm going to clear the air on this now.

I sit on the edge of the bed, lean over him and place a gentle kiss on his lips.

Harm's eyelids flutter and then open slowly.

"Good morning," I say softly once he gets his eyes open.

"I didn't hear the alarm. Did I oversleep?" he asks in disbelief.

"No, I shut off the alarm so that I could be the one who woke you. I wanted to talk to you while you got dressed for your run."

"Talk to me about what?" he inquires before yawning.

"I don't want you to be angry with me, and the only way that I can think of to keep that from happening is to explain that I didn't go to the Decatur House based on some hormone-driven need to find a missing child, regardless of the fact that the child is an adult. Information that I'd received during my phone calls had made taking a look around a logical next step."

"Mac, it isn't so much that you went there that upset me. It's that you took our baby and my grandmother with you on your search for the missing midshipman," he interjects with a slight bit of hostility while sitting up.

Though I know by his tone that he's still angry with me, even if he refers to it as being upset, the fact that he's sitting still and not trying to get out of bed to avoid discussing it tells me that he's at least willing to hear me out, and that's a good sign.

"I can understand that, but you have to remember that I'm not an ordinary housewife and mother. I'm a Marine who's capable of taking care of myself and protecting my family."

"I know that you can, but it wasn't as if trouble came to you. You went looking for it. It was a risk that wasn't worth taking."

"Harm, I'd never be so careless as to put a member of our family in the line of fire without thought and I resent the inference that I would. That's your MO, not mine." I know that I sound huffy, but he deserves it.

He's entitled to his feelings, whatever they are, so I'd promised myself that I wouldn't let what he said upset me, but when he implied that I didn't assess the risk, I forgot that minor detail and I took an unnecessary shot at him.

"I may have gone with my gut or allowed my emotions to take the lead in the past, but I've never put one of our children in the line of fire," he replies firmly.

I can't decide if he sounds more angry or hurt by what I said.

I take a deep breath to regain control of my emotions.

"I'm sorry. My remark was uncalled for. I know that you'd never intentionally put our children in danger, but you hurt me when you implied that I would, and I reacted without considering that, from your point of view, not knowing what information I had, that's the way it seemed to you."

He takes my hand.

"I'm sorry, too. I know that you love our children as much as I do and that you wouldn't have taken any of them with you if you'd thought that there was a chance that they'd be hurt. I also know how my grandmother can be. If she wanted to tag along, there would be no changing her mind."

I place my lips on his.

With apologies exchanged and accepted, and with a reciprocated kiss between us, I begin to explain to him about my morning that led me to the Decatur House.

"After talking with Martha at the Department of Building Development and Management, who informed me that she didn't know what happened to the original plans and that she wouldn't have time to look them up until today, knowing that the information was time sensitive because the midshipman could be trapped in a void, I asked if there was any other way for me to get a look at the plans. She said that, if I knew how to run a microfiche machine or thought that I could learn with a brief explanation, I was welcome to come down to their office and look them up myself. So I asked your mother if she'd mind watching Patty after her next feeding for a little while so that I could run an errand, and she agreed. So I waited until Patty had eaten, which gave me about three hours before I had to be back to let her nurse again."

"When you got a look at the plans, did you discover that there was a door?" Harm asks.

"No, there was no indication that there was a door on the original plans, but on the plans from a remodeling or restoration that took place at one point, there seemed to be a space between the walls that's shared by the study and a bedroom that was listed as allotted space for electrical wires and plumbing pipes to be run. After I made a copy of the original plan and the later one, intending to show it to you last night, I headed home to feed Patty."

"If you left and came back alone, how did you end up at the Decatur House with both Patty and my grandmother?"

"When I got home, I'd been gone for only an hour and forty-seven minutes, so when your grandmother asked me to sit and have tea with her in the kitchen until Patty woke up for her next feeding, I agreed. Your grandmother made small talk until she got to what I'm sure was the point of her asking me to sit with her, and that was to see if I'd taken off because I was having some kind of post-partum anxiety that made me suddenly want or need to get out of the house. When I told her no, that wasn't the case, that I'd just gone out to check on something for you, she asked me if you were helping to find the missing midshipman. I told her that, to my knowledge, you weren't assisting the police, but that you and I had been discussing the case and we'd had an idea, and that I'd been out looking into whether or not it had any merit."

"Of course, she asked if you'd found out anything while you were out," Harm states.

"You know your grandmother so well," I comment.

"Yes, I do. What did you tell her?" he inquires.

"I told her that our theory didn't appear to pan out. Then I told her about our idea of a hidden door, and she asked to see the plans. When she looked at them, she pointed out that the gap for the electrical and plumbing access was as wide as a hallway and that we could still be right, since, if they wanted a secret void or passage, they wouldn't label it as a 'hidden passage' on the blueprints. I said that finding the door would be the only way that I'd know for sure if I ... _we_ were on the right track. That's when I decided to go on a tour of the place and look for it myself. Not knowing how long I'd be gone and not wanting to risk her not accepting a bottle and going hungry since she hasn't yet had a bottle-feeding, and figuring that, if I found the door and there was a body, she was too young to remember anything and be traumatized by it, I decided to take Patty with me."

"That's when my grandmother's inner Jessica Fletcher came out and she was able to get you to take her along by telling you that she could hold Patty if you ran into trouble."

"Yes, you really do know her well," I respond.

"I do, and I know you, too. I saw that sparkle in your eye when you and I first started to talk about this case. You miss working cases."

He's staring at me like I'm supposed to answer, but he didn't ask me a question, and I don't know what to say to him.

Silence falling between us, I decide that perhaps what he's waiting on is for me to confirm that he knows me as well as he thinks he does.

"Yes, I miss it..." I concede, but not wanting him to think that I regret my decision to retire, I quickly add, "...but I really want this time with our children while they're young."

"I know you do, but I was wondering if you'd like to finish scratching your itch, so to speak, or if staying involved in the case would only whet your appetite for more," he says.

"I'm confused. What's left of the case to complete? Did I misunderstand? I thought you said last night that you found the midshipman."

"I can't really tell you any more unless you agree to be my co-counsel, and then I'd have to fill you in so that you can represent our client so that I'm not trying to balance my job with family and the extra work of a case."

"Are you serious? You want me to represent the midshipman?" I ask, my voice raising an octave from surprise.

"Yes. If this had come up before the election, I'd say that I'd have plenty of time to work the case, but if yesterday was any indication of what even the next few weeks are going to be like, then I'm not sure that I have the time to take on a client outside my normal duties, though I don't want you to agree to do it to 'help me'. I can't go into specifics until you're on the legal team, but I will say that it's a pretty straightforward case, and I don't see that it will take more than a week or two to wrap it up. However, if you think that it'll take too much of your time away from the children or, instead of giving you a little enjoyment, you think that working the case will be a painful reminder of your former life, then I don't want you to do it."

"I'm in! Tell me what I need to know so that I can get to work on the case law research this morning," I say enthusiastically, but I'm having trouble believing that the prospect of working has me so excited.

**HARM'S POV**

I know that she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, but now that she's been one for almost a year, I think that her excited response in accepting this case tells me that my wife needs something to do outside of being a wife and mother.

As she looks at me with wide-eyes, ready to take in the information that I have to offer, I realize that it's a discussion that I should have with her after this case is over, since she may get a taste of the _work _that goes into a case, miss the children and be cured. I just hope that I can tell if this one case satisfies her and she can put her career aside once more or if she needs to go back to work.

Putting aside my feeling for the moment that Mac may not be happy with her current life as my wife and a mother, I fill her in on what Midshipman Chissom told me.

**MINUTES LATER**

I've reached the end and am summing up with "...and after hearing his version of the events that happened on Halloween, I asked him to get the clothing and the watch that he'd been wearing to take with us. While he was retrieving the items, I informed the police that he'd been found and that we were en route to the hospital to get a head wound examined."

"Did the police take his watch and clothing in as evidence?" she asks.

"Yes. The clothing that he was wearing that night could be confirmed by the midshipmen who he was with that evening, and the broken watch face lends some corroboration to his statement."

"I'm sure that they'll check his clothing for particles that put him in the passageway, too."

I think that she was thinking more out loud than speaking to me, but I respond anyway.

"I'm not sure if they'll take the time to do that since the story that the midshipman told doesn't seem that far-fetched now that you and my grandmother found the hidden door and they have a preliminary medical report where the doctor states that Chissom is very lucky to be alive because he suffered a severe trauma to the head that resulted in a hairline fracture to the skull, which could cause a loss of consciousness, memory loss and a variety of other things."

"If you don't think that the police are going to file charges, why does the midshipman need either one of us to represent him?" she inquires, and the disappointment that there isn't really a case for her to work on is evident in her voice.

"First, there's been no official statement that there won't be any charges filed, though I can't think of any that would apply. Of course, since I believe Chissom's story, naturally I'd think that way. Second, whether or not he needs to be defended on criminal charges, someone will need to plead his case to a panel at the Academy for reinstatement with no punishment for being UA before he can return to classes."

"He has a fractured skull. Do you really think that they'll want to kick him out of school?" Mac asks.

"I don't think that they'll necessarily want to, but given that, when he didn't go back there immediately after coming to and getting out of the house, I'd say that they'll charge him with being UA ..."

"...and since he willingly stated to you that he remembered the Academy, but wanted a break, and that's why he stayed in Midshipman Henderson's basement, the charge will be more a test of his desire to be in the Navy than of being UA," she states, cutting me off, but following my line of thought.

"I believe that'll be the case. They'll be giving him a chance to 'ring the bell' so to speak."

"He does want to stay at the Academy, doesn't he?" she asks.

"He told me that he did, but if he'll still want to when he's feeling better, I couldn't tell you. If you'll let me get up and go about my morning routine, when I get into the office and see what my schedule is like for today, I'll give you a call to let you know if I can meet you at the hospital to introduce the two of you or if I'll just have to call and inform the Senator that you'll be coming to the hospital to speak with his son and that you'll be representing him from here on out while I tend to my duties at the Pentagon."

"You were recommended to him. Do you think that the Senator will allow me to represent his son?"

"He's never mentioned to me who suggested me to him, but I do know that it wasn't the SecNav, so I'm sure that he'll be quite understanding that I may not have the necessary time to give his son's case as much attention as an attorney who I personally endorse and who has only one client. So my guess is that he'll have no problem with it."

"Good point," she says happily before standing up and instructing me to get up so that she can get to work.

As I get to my feet, Mac asks, "How upset do you think your grandmother is going to be that I'm on the case?"

"I don't see why she'd care. I know that my mother would be more than happy to keep an eye on her namesake while you're working," I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

"No, not because of the children, but because I can't tell her if any of the scenarios that she came up with during the ride home after leaving the Decatur House yesterday are correct without risking a break in attorney/client privilege now that I'm the midshipman's attorney."

"Not knowing what happened is going to drive her crazy," I say, and we both laugh.

**ROOM 403**

**BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER**

**BETHESDA, MARYLAND**

**1330**

**MAC'S POV**

I don't know if Harm meeting me here on his lunch break and introducing me to the young man had anything to do with it or if having a less intimidating woman instead of Harm's looming presence as both a Navy officer and as a man was the reason why I wasn't met with the resistance that I'd been expecting from the midshipman about my taking over his case. Whichever it was, Midshipman Chissom has repeated his story to me with ease.

I just hope that, when I start to question him, he doesn't change his mind about having me as his attorney.

Though Harm had briefed me on Chissom's recollection of the events on Halloween night, I wanted the midshipman to recount what had happened in his own words so that I could look for inconsistencies between what he told me and the statement that he made to the police.

A story that's repeated with some but not major variations is more often than not a truthful one, and that gives me, as his lawyer, more confidence that he, as Harm suggested, wasn't thinking clearly due to his head injury rather than making a true error in judgment.

I don't know if the questions that I have will change my opinion about his innocence or how I want to handle his defense, but if I have a question, someone else may, too, and, as his lawyer, I need to know the answer before they ask it.

"John, you mentioned that Midshipman Henderson had given you the combination to the cellar door, but people interviewed after your disappearance said that the two of you don't get along. So why would he give you a way into in parents' home?"

"It wasn't just me. He gave the whole group the combination. We don't always have liberty on the same weekends, and he let the five us of who hang out regularly have some place to go if we needed to ..." His voice trials off.

"If you decided to run away?" I ask.

"No, Ma'am. You can't tell anyone what I say to you, right?"

"That's right," I confirm for him.

"If we're old enough to join the military, to fight and die for our country, you'd think that they'd let us drink, but they don't. So Henderson told us how to get in. That way, if we needed a place to drink beer or had had some beers somewhere and needed to sleep them off, we could do it in his basement."

"People say that you two don't get along, but he thinks enough of you to have included you in having a safe place to go. That doesn't sound to me like the two of you dislike each other. So why don't you two get along? Or do you, and you're just trying to keep that a secret?"

"Ma'am, if you're suggesting that it's some kind of don't ask, don't tell kind of thing, you are _so_ wrong. It's nothing at all like that, well, not on my part, Ma'am."

"So Midshipman Henderson is gay, and you found out, so he's uncomfortable around you because you know his secret and he's worried that you'll tell someone."

He signs heavily. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Do you know why he was upset before you all left the Academy on Halloween night?" I ask, not sure that it really matters, but I'm curious.

"I pulled him aside at dinner and asked him what had crawled up his butt. He told me that he'd gotten into an argument with 'his friend' about him going out with us and not spending any time with him."

Even though I couldn't reveal it to anyone if he knew the answer and told me, I don't want to know if Henderson's 'friend' is another midshipman at the Academy, so I'm ready to move on to something else.

**FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2008**

**ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICE**

**NAVAL ACADEMY**

**ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND**

**1145**

"Why is it taking so long, Ma'am?" a young and impatient Mr. Chissom asks.

"Is it a good or a bad sign that it's taking so long, Ms. MacKenzie?" the Senator asks before I can respond to his son's question.

"It's hard to know for sure what's taking so long. In this case, taking a long time to reach a decision is probably a good sign," I say, moving from answering the first question to starting to answer the second one seamlessly. "It means that they weren't set on a decision and that they're taking a look at the facts and not jumping to a conclusion."

"Do you think that they'll rule in my favor, Ma'am?" the hopeful Midshipman Chissom asks nervously.

"I think so. The DA's office has said that no crime was committed and that there will be no charges filed in regard to your disappearance. I presented the panel with the doctor's statements that support your claim that you weren't physically or mentally capable of making a sound decision based on the extent of your head injury. We made it clear that you were released from the hospital yesterday with a clean bill of health and presented them with a statement from your doctor that there was no sign of permanent brain damage. Before we were dismissed for them to deliberate, you came across as being sincere and you carried yourself well while the panel interviewed you. All of those things are in your favor."

The wooden door opens, and we're called in to hear the verdict.

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**1415**

"Mommy," Sami squeals, running towards me as if she hasn't seen me in days rather than one morning.

"Hi, Ladybug. Have you been good for your grandparents while I was gone?"

"Patty was bad, not me," she says, tattling the way you'd expect a four-year-old to do as I embrace her.

"Oh, what did Patty do?" I ask, having a problem imagining how an almost seven-week-old baby could be "bad".

"She didn't like her bottle," Sami informs me before my eyes travel over to Trish for confirmation of the information that I've just been given while releasing my hold on Sami.

"That isn't completely true. She did drink about three ounces, but she kept rooting around for something besides the bottle," Trish informs me with a grin.

I think to myself, 'I was worried about her preferring the bottle to the breast when the doctor told me that bottles require less sucking, but I guess I had nothing to worry about'.

"Where is she now?"

"In the nursery, asleep in her crib."

"Is Patty in trouble?" Sami asks.

"No," I answer.

"Where's Matthew?" I ask, but the sound of his wail let's me know that he's just awakened from his nap.

"Just waking from his nap..." Trish says as she starts to get up.

"I'll get him and check on Patty. I'll be back in a minute."

"You haven't said yet. Did you win your case, dear?" Trish asks as I leave the room.

"Yes," I say over my shoulder as I head to the nursery to check on my babies.

**OFFICE OF ADM. ALLISON KRENNICK**

**JAG HEADQUARTERS**

**FALLS CHURCH, VA **

**1845**

The door was open, and he strolled right in.

"Admiral, could I have a minute of your time?" Senator Chissom asked with formality, even though he was very familiar with the occupant of the office.

"Of course, Senator," she replied without a hint of the personal relationship that she'd once shared with the man who was closing the door to her office.

With the door closed, Bill Chissom turned to look at the woman with whom he'd once been so in love, "Allie, some things never change. I knew when I didn't get an answer on your home or cellphone that you'd still be working."

"My career was the reason why we couldn't make it work, wasn't it?" Krennick asked with perhaps a touch of regret in her tone.

"Your career wasn't the problem. The problem was that your career was the _only_ thing that you wanted," he corrected.

"I'm sure that you didn't come here to revisit old times and discuss lost love, so why did you come here this evening, Bill?"

"I wanted to say thank you for not holding a grudge against a former lover and punishing his son in the process. My son was told this afternoon that he faced no punishment and could return to his classes on Monday."

"I'm glad to hear that. You're welcome, Bill."

"Allie, do you ever wonder what-if?" he asked with a faraway look in his eyes.

"No, Bill, I don't find it productive to wonder about what might have been. Now, if you don't mind, I have some more work to do."

"You haven't changed a bit, Allie," he said with some remorse, yet he found it somehow reassuring, as if knowing that, if she hadn't changed after all these years, he'd made the right decision when he'd married Mary Ann Jones all those years ago.

"Goodbye, Allie," Bill Chissom said with a smile.

"Goodbye, Bill," she replied before he opened the door and left her office.

**MASTER BEDROOM **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VIRGINIA**

**2215**

**HARM'S POV**

Mac enters our bedroom with a big smile on her face after putting our baby girl to bed in the nursery.

She's had that same deliriously happy expression on her face since I got home, and I suspect that she's had it most of the day - ever since the Academy panel ruled in Midshipman Chissom's favor.

"I want to thank you for not pushing me to move Patty out of our bedroom sooner, but after her doctor gave her a glowing health report at her six-week's checkup earlier this week, I feel more comfortable with letting her sleep in her crib and letting her have a bottle once in a while," she says as she places the baby monitor down on her night table and unties her robe.

"No reason to thank me. I'm just happy that my baby girl is doing so well. When is your checkup so I'll know that you're okay?"

With her robe now off and laying across the end of our bed, Mac slides in next to me.

"I'm feeling fine, but to accommodate Patty's appointment and to appear in front of the panel at the Academy today, I had to move my appointment to this coming Wednesday."

"You feeling good wouldn't have anything to do with achieving a favorable outcome at the Academy today now, would it?"

"It might have a little bit to do with that, but only a bit," she says smiling sweetly as she pulls the sheet and blanket up to cover her.

"So, tell me, Mrs. Rabb, did handling the Chissom case leave you feeling satisfied or did it give you the itch to get back to work?"

"It felt good to help the midshipman and it made me realize how much I really miss working outside the home, especially right now when we have so much family around to help that they do almost everything for us."

"But ..." I ask, noting that her thought didn't sound complete.

"...But Patty isn't fond of the bottle. She needs me, and I can't tell you how much that means to me. So, though it did let me know that I miss working more than I'd thought, coming home to find that my baby didn't want to eat because it wasn't me tells me that home is where I still want to be, at least for now."

"Since I'm due for orders in a few months that could take us to god knows where, I think that doing anything more than taking a case here or there is a wise choice for now. However, I also think that you should start to give some thought to what you might want to do next. We've spoken once or twice about when I retire that we'd live in San Diego, which would mean that you could start to study for the California Bar now and have that done before I retire if you wanted to go back to practicing law either full or part-time. Or is there something else at which you'd like to try your hand?"

"Are you asking me to decide what I want to be when I grow up?" she asks with a chuckle.

"In a way, I guess I am. My first passion was flying, and I became a pilot. Then, it was the law, and now I'm an attorney. There's nothing that says that, when or if you decide to go back to work, you have to be a lawyer."

"No, there isn't. There's also no reason why I have to think about a future career tonight, is there?" she asks before yawning.

"No, of course not," I reply.

"Then, if you don't mind, I'm ready to get some sleep before Patty wakes me for her early morning meal," she says as she moves closer to me.

She kisses me briefly and whispers to me, "Good night, Harm" before snuggling into my side.

My arm automatically wraps around her shoulders as she gets settled in next to me with her head on my chest.

"Good night, Mac," I whisper before placing a kiss in her hair and closing my eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE – ****Giving Thanks**

**PART ONE**

**TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2008**

**DINING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**BREAKFAST TIME**

**HARM'S POV**

With the case of the missing midshipman concluded, Mac and I need to focus our attention on the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and the departure of my parents and grandmother.

We've been putting off telling the children about their grandparents leaving because we know that they love having them all here, but Mac and I spoke last night and decided that, since we were informed over the weekend that they've set a date for departure - the Saturday after Thanksgiving – it's time to tell our children.

Though we hadn't agreed on the exact time of day, whether it would be after they got home from school or after dinner, we had agreed that telling them before they went to school wouldn't start their day off on the right foot.

Since we don't want to speak of the change that's coming soon to the kids' world, the adults aren't very talkative this morning, resulting in a room that's too quiet.

Contemplating what would be a 'safe topic' to discuss at the breakfast table, my thoughts are interrupted when my princess asks, "Daddy, are you going to take us to school today?"

"Yes. What made you think that I wouldn't be taking you?"

"Because you aren't dressed yet," Abigail replies.

As an automatic thing, I glance down to ensure that I do have on clothing, and then I get her meaning.

"I don't have on my uniform because I don't have to go to work today. In fact, a lot of people have today off because it's Veterans Day. Do you know why we have Veterans Day?"

I get three heads – Ty's, Abigail's and Sami's - all shaking in a negative manner as each eats some portion of their breakfast.

"The 11th of November is a day set aside for us to thank those who serve or have served in the military," I say, supplying the answer to my own question and educating my children in the process.

"I thought that's what Memorial Day was for, so why are there two holidays for that?" Ty asks.

"They are similar, but they aren't the same," I begin.

"Your dad is going to have to tell you later because the three of you need to be walking out that door in seven minutes in order not to be late to school, and Ty and Abigail, you still need to get your backpacks and put on your coats," Mac states informatively, interrupting my lesson, but keeping everyone on schedule.

"You heard the official time keeper. Let's get moving. We'll talk more on the way to school, and if we don't get finished before we get there, we'll talk again when I pick you up this afternoon."

**THE WALL**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**AFTER SCHOOL**

In the car on the way home from dropping off Ty and Abigail at school this morning, with the discussion of Veterans and Memorial Days on my mind, I had the idea of taking them to a place where I haven't been in a long time. I thought that the experience would help make the distinction between the two days clearer for them and it would also serve as a bridge to tell them of their family connection to both holidays.

After I got home from taking the children to school, I spoke to Mac about my idea, and she and I quickly agreed that Sami was probably too young to grasp the concepts of heritage that I wanted to try to pass on today, so taking advantage of still having babysitters at the house, Ty, Abigail, Mac and I made the trip to the Mall in DC.

Sticking to the theme of veterans for today, we skipped other memorials, such as the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials, and first visited the statues of soldiers that were erected to honor those who served in the Korean War.

Though I wasn't following the chronological order of the wars, the connection to the next two memorials on my list to see today made me feel that the order that I'd chosen was the correct order in which to visit them.

After leaving the Korean War statues, I led them to the World War II Memorial, where I informed Ty and Abigail that my grandfather, Gee Gee's husband, had lost his life as a Navy pilot while fighting in that war.

When Mac and I spoke about explaining to our children the sacrifice that some pay for us to have our freedom, I couldn't think of any place more appropriate to bring our tour to an end than at the Vietnam War Memorial. Not only does it stand to memorialize those who served proudly and didn't come home from that war, but, for me, there's a deep, personal connection to my father there.

I've come here so often, though not since before Mac and I were married.

Has it really been almost four years since I came to visit my father here?

Nevertheless, I don't need to count the paces. I just know the number and come to stop in front of the panel that I know contains his name.

"Are all these people buried here?" Abigail asks.

Squatting down to her level, I reply, "No, Princess. This isn't a burial site."

"But it has names like gravestones," Abigail says, interrupting me before I could say more.

"Yes, it does, but they aren't buried here. This is where our nation has placed a granite wall in remembrance of the people whose names are listed on the wall who didn't come home from the Vietnam War."

I didn't expect after all these years that it would be this difficult to tell my children about my dad.

"I brought you to this memorial last because my father's name appears on this wall."

"Your father?" Abigail questions.

Though my father's picture was put up in Matthew's nursery before he was born, Abigail and Sami were just becoming part of our family at the time, and I'm not sure that either of them knows or perhaps understands their connection to the man in the picture.

"Grandpa isn't Dad's father like Dad isn't ours. Grandma told me that she married Grandpa because Dad's father died in a war," Ty explains for me.

"That's right, the Vietnam War, so his name appears on this wall."

I stand and, as if my arm has memorized the exact location, my fingertips easily find my father's name etched in the dark stone.

"See, right here, Harmon Rabb, Sr. That's my father's name."

"Does coming here make you sad, Dad?" Tyler asks.

I look down at my son.

"A little …" I begin. "I was six when his plane was shot down, and it makes me sad to think about how much of my life he missed and that he missed knowing you and your brother and sisters, and being your grandfather. On the other hand, he was a man who fought with courage and proudly served his country. That makes him a man of whom I'm very proud, and I can't be too sad that he died fighting to maintain our nation's freedoms for not only his family and his future grandchildren, but for other families as well."

"Then he was a brave man," Abigail says.

"Yes, he was," I reply softly, staring at his name etched in the stone.

"Every name on this wall, and those men and women whose names may never appear on a wall in remembrance of the sacrifice for freedom that they made were brave and are entitled to be respected for fighting to maintain our nation's freedom," Mac adds solemnly.

To tie in our visit here this afternoon with our conversation this morning, I continue, "Memorial Day is about honoring those who, like the men and women honored by the memorials here and in hometowns of fallen heroes around the nation, lost their lives while serving their country. Veterans Day is a day to honor and give thanks to those who have served honorably in some branch of the military, whether they are currently serving or have retired from military service. Those who served but didn't make a career of it are also honored today."

"Is there another day for people who didn't die, but got hurt like Uncle Bud? 'Cuz AJ says that one of his legs got blown off in Afghanistan," Ty questions.

"No, there isn't another day. Today would be the day when you'd thank men like Uncle Bud and any other man or woman who've come home scarred in some way by their service," I state, believing that no one who goes to war ever returns home without being changed forever in some way by the experience.

"Because of the scar on your shoulder, that means you, too, Daddy?" Abigail says questioningly.

"Yes, Daddy, too," Mac answers.

"Though she no longer puts on the uniform, Momma, too," I add, not forgetting for a moment the fact that my wife has served with honor and has been awarded a Medal of Valor.

Perhaps this wasn't the best idea for an outing today, because my mood has gone from somber to depressed in the course of the last few minutes.

"It's getting windy. Why don't I take the kids back to the car while you have some time with your father?" Mac suggests softly.

"Thanks. I'll stay for only a few minutes," I reply, grateful that she understands that I'd like some time alone.

It isn't long before my hand reaches out to touch my father's name again.

"It's been a while, Dad," I begin. "I've been a little busy. I got married. We've adopted three children, and Mac gave me two more, a son and a daughter. Our son bears yours and her Uncle Matt's name, Harmon Matthew. With Mattie, though she isn't a child any longer, it brings our total to six children. I guess I should've introduced you to Tyler and Abigail before Mac took them to the car. They're great kids. I wish that they could really meet you."

My hand falls away from the cold granite, and I lose my voice.

Silence hangs in the air for a few moments before I say, "I guess I'd better go, Dad. Mac and the kids are waiting for me."

A few minutes later, I'm getting into the car that Mac has started so it's all warm inside.

After I close the door, I look over at Mac, and I see a question in her eyes. 'Are you okay?'

I give her an affirmative nod in response to her nonverbal question before I put the car in drive and look to see if there's any traffic coming that would impede me from pulling out into the street to head home.

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**AFTER DINNER **

**HARM'S POV**

I'm sitting on the coffee table with Ty, Abigail and Sami on the couch facing me with renewed second thoughts about telling them about my parents and grandmother leaving, not because I don't think that it's a good idea for them to leave for a little while, but because I know that the news may upset the children.

I take a moment to think about the reaction that each of our children might have to the news.

At Ty's age, he's nine, and in combination with his 'go with the flow' personality, I don't anticipate any problem with him not being able to understand or accept that Gee Gee wants to go home, and even though he has a close relationship with his grandpa and loves his grandma, I don't foresee him being too upset by the news, especially once he hears that they'll be here for Thanksgiving and back for Christmas.

We'll be left to guess how Abigail feels about them leaving because she tends to be more introverted and keeps her feelings to herself.

Which brings me to Sami, who may cry or get angry … but I can guarantee that she'll have some reaction, and we won't have to guess how she feels about the news.

With Mac standing beside me, her hand on my shoulder, and having assessed the probable reactions of each of my children, I'm ready to begin.

"You know that your mom and I asked all of you to come in here so that we could have a family meeting."

"We aren't gettin' another baby brother or sister, are we?" Sami asks incredulously.

Her question catches me by surprise. However, from her point of view, I can understand it. We haven't had a lot of family meetings, and several of the ones that we've had were to tell the children that either Mac was going to have a baby or to inform them whether they were going to have a little brother or sister.

Sami hasn't asked a difficult question, but it sparks a reminder that Mac and I still haven't had a conversation about her surgery, which causes me to pause for a heartbeat before answering.

"No," I answer after the brief silence.

"Is it time to move?" Ty asks.

That was another logical assumption since either the news that we were moving or where we were going to be living has been the topic of family meetings in the past.

"No ... soon, in a few more months, but not yet," I answer, and to head off another possible question on the subject, I add, "I have no idea of where we'll be moving yet."

I pause and, with no new questions and Mac squeezing my shoulder as a means of showing her support, I forge ahead with the news.

"We wanted to tell you that Gee Gee misses her home, and your grandma and grandpa are going to drive her to the farm after Thanksgiving and stay with her for a few weeks. Then they'll all come back here to celebrate Christmas with us."

"I want them to stay!" Sami announces as she defiantly folds her arms in front of herself.

I get the impression that she thinks that I'm sending them away.

Mac steps forward and kneels down in front of the couch.

She looks directly at Sami, but she speaks to all of the children.

"We want them to stay, too, but Gee Gee has friends who she misses. So, because we love her so much, we can't be selfish. We need to let her go home to see her friends," Mac explains.

"We aren't leaving for two weeks and we'll be back for Christmas, so you'll hardly have time to miss us before we're back," my mother adds, stepping into the room from the hall, with Frank and my grandmother following closely behind.

Apparently, they were nearby in case they could be of any assistance in helping the children to understand that this isn't their home and that their being here can't be permanent.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2300**

I step out of the shower, the cold water having worked effectively on my desire to be with my wife.

Wanting to make love to Mac isn't only because it's been weeks and I've missed her.

Tonight it's more about our trip to The Wall today. It affected me in a way that it never has before.

I can't really explain it, but, because of the way I'm feeling, I want to take solace in her arms and feel the warmth of her love. However, she hasn't had her post-childbirth and surgery checkup, and no matter how much I need her, I'd never jeopardize her health, so it can't happen tonight.

I curse myself as I towel off because it would've been possible if Mac had gone to the doctor last week as originally scheduled.

Since she changed her appointment because she was working on the Chissom case, one that I asked her to take, I can hardly fault her for missing it.

Of course, accepting blame doesn't stop me from being eager to have an intimate reunion with her.

Having dried off and made my way back to our bed, I slip into bed next to my sleeping wife and pray that sleep will come swiftly - meaning before the effects of my cold shower have worn off.


	15. Chapter 15

**PART TWO**

**SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2008**

**DINING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**BREAKFAST TIME**

**HARM'S POV**

It may be just my imagination, but it seems that the normally bright smiles of my children who surround me at the breakfast table have been diming a little each morning since we told them about the upcoming departure of my parents and grandmother.

Hoping to see a little spark from at least one of my children I ask, "Who wants to go with Daddy on a few errands today?"

"I do! I do!" Sami answers enthusiastically, which pleases me since we were concerned about how Sami would take to having to share me with Patty.

As it turns out, she's been very accepting of her baby sister since we brought Patty home. According to Sami, she's the big sister and Abigail is Patty's "bigger sister".

There was a little tension at first, but after the first few days, when Sami realized that she can do things with Daddy that Patty can't because she's too young or too little, Sami has stepped into the role of big sister.

Just last night, Sami pulled a blanket up over Patty saying that she didn't want her to be cold. Even though Sami pulled the blanket up covering all of Patty, even her head, the sentiment of the act was so sweet that it was cute, and Sami walked away with a beaming smile as she was praised for being such a good big sister.

"What about you, Ty? Do you want to come with us?" I ask.

"Is Grandpa going with you?" Ty asks, looking at me.

"If he wants to," I reply before looking at Frank.

Turning to look at my mother, Frank states, "Unless Grandma has something for me to do..." My mother gives him a negative head shake. "...I can tag along."

"Then I want to go, too," Ty says with a smile.

With two ready to join me, even if one was conditional, I'll see if I'm going to get a clean sweep. "What about you, Abigail? Are you going to come with us?"

"Grandma, are you going with them?" Abigail asks, turning her head to look at my mother.

"No, dear, I'm going to stay here," my mother answers.

Rotating her head to look at my grandmother, Abigail asks, "Are you going Gee Gee?"

"No, I'm going to stay here and bake something for dessert tonight while they're gone," my grandmother answers.

After asking the two women who are leaving in two weeks, Abigail looks at me. "I don't want to go, Daddy." Without waiting for any plea from me to change her mind or for an acknowledgement that I heard her decline my invitation, she turns her head to look at my grandmother. "Can I help you bake, Gee Gee … please?"

Of course you can, dear. I can always use a good helper like you, but if you're going to stay and help me, why don't we let your brother and sister decide what we're going to make? Does that sound fair?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Abigail answers.

"Then, Ty and Sami, which would you like to have for dessert tonight: pie, cake or cookies?"

"Cookies," Ty says excitedly.

"No! Cake!" Sami counters.

So begins the debate between Ty and Sami that will last until the breakfast dishes are ready to be cleared away.

**KITCHEN **

**ROBERTS' HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1255**

**HARRIET'S POV**

"Harriet," Mac says in greeting as she comes into the kitchen.

"Is it time for Abigail's lesson already?" I ask in disbelief, not only that it's that late in the day, but that I've been sitting at the kitchen table for hours without accomplishing as much as I needed to have done.

"It is, but I can see that you're busy, so I'll just go sit in on Abigail's lesson so that I don't get in your way," Mac says apologetically.

Before she can retreat from the room, I say, "No, stay." That causes her to stop and look at me. "I could really use a break," I add as I put down my pen on a stack of papers on the table.

"If you're sure," she says before pausing for my response.

"I'm sure. So please come over and sit down," I say as I stand up. "I'll just move some of this stuff so that we'll have plenty of room to sit and chat while Abigail has her lesson. Reaching for a stack of papers to move, I ask, "Would you like coffee or tea today?" Then deciding to start to either boil water or brew the coffee first, I pull back my hand, leaving the stacks untouched for the moment, and turn towards Mac to wait for her reply.

"Don't go to any trouble for me," she says, gesturing that there's no reason for me to move anything as she steps closer to the table. "This stack of papers makes it look like you're the lawyer in the family, Harriet," she says with a little chuckle. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you working on?" She pauses for a fraction of a second before quickly adding, "That is, providing that it isn't classified and you can tell me."

I find her comment a little odd since it seems to me that she and Harm were the ones who were always on some adventure with Agent Webb, not me.

"Nothing classified here," I reply with a warm smile, motioning to the four or five stacks of papers on my kitchen table. "However, in order to talk about it, I need to make me some herbal tea, one that helps relieves tension ... and headaches," I continue, moving towards the stove to put on a kettle of water.

Instead of sitting at the table and waiting for me, Mac steps over to the breakfast bar and sits down.

With her seated so close, I won't feel like I'm yelling across the room if I start to tell her what I'm working on while I prepare the tea.

"You know that I love being a mom..." I begin while placing the kettle on the stovetop. "…but I found that I really missed working, doing something that gave me an identity of my own. For all the headaches, I loved putting that Christmas USO show together a few years ago, so I'd stayed involved with them until a few months ago when I was approached by a charity called Giving Thanks By Giving Back. Their main mission is to help families of the community in which they are based, and they wanted me to head a new division. I wasn't very interested at first, but, long story short, I took the position as the director of that division."

"I've been here since March. Why am I just hearing about this now, Harriet?" she asks, sounding a little hurt that I hadn't shared this with her sooner.

"Since it's a new division, there really isn't much yet to tell," I answer. "…and honestly, the reason that I haven't mentioned it before is because of Bud," I blurt out, and she looks at me as if that piece of information shocks her.

"I didn't mean that as harshly as it sounded, but it is because of Bud that I haven't told you about it before now. When I discussed taking the position with Bud, he was supportive, but he had one concern, so I agreed to his condition, which was that I not ask our friends, his co-workers or his superiors at JAG for help, since, though it is a worthy cause, it might have a negative effect on his career to have his wife asking for favors or contributions to her charity and, so far, I've been able to keep that promise," I explain.

"But ..." Mac says, prompting me to continue.

The teakettle starts to whistle, and I remove it from the stove while answering her question.

"No buts. I made a promise to my husband and I'll keep it."

"Is there anything that I can do to help?" Mac asks

"I can't ask you to help because of my promise to Bud."

"You promised not to ask, but if a friend _offered_ to help, he couldn't very well get upset with you for that, could he?" she asks with one eyebrow slightly raised, reminding me very much of her sometimes mischievous husband. "Harm's parents and grandmother will be leaving for Pennsylvania right after Thanksgiving, so I may not have time to help after they leave, but I have some time to spare until then. So what can I do to help?"

"If you're sure that you don't mind, let's take our tea over to the table where I can fill you in on the events that I'm organizing and get your input. You never know. Just getting your ideas may be all the help that I'll need."

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME  
MANASSAS, VA**

**1345**

**HARM'S POV**

I heard the car pull in, so I'm already standing to put Patty into her bassinet when Mac enters the living room with Abigail at her side.

Mac and Abigail have wide smiles on their faces and gleams in their eyes.

They're obliviously very happy, happier than they were when they left for Abigail's piano lesson.

"What has you two in such a good mood?" I ask while I lay our sleepy baby girl in her bassinet.

"I'm going to be giving thanks to soldiers by playing a song at the hospital to cheer them up," Abigail answers.

I'm sure that she believes that her answer tells me everything that I need to know, but I'm not clear as to what she's talking about, so I look to Mac for an explanation.

"Harriet is working with a new charity organization, and among the events that she has coming up for the holiday season is a variety show for the wounded soldiers at Walter Reed Hospital. So she asked Abigail's piano teacher if she'd allow two or three of her students to perform and, of course, our little pianist, being her best student, was asked to play for the soldiers," Mac explains.

"Congratulations, Abigail! When is your big performance?" I ask, glancing into the bassinet to make sure that Patty has fallen asleep.

"Not 'til closer to Christmas. So I have plenty of time to practice," she replies with a dimming smile.

"You play very well. I'll bet that you won't have to practice much, Princess," I say to her before looking towards Mac.

"I guess that explains your mood, too. Having your little girl giving a command performance must have you bursting at the seams with pride."

"Yes, I'm very proud of her, but there was more to our trip to the Roberts' than just her lesson and Abigail being invited to play."

"I'm going to practice," Abigail says, bouncing from the room and interrupting Mac in the process.

"I'm going to a meeting of Harriet's charity on Wednesday. It's called Giving Thanks By Giving Back," Mac finishes.

"I've never heard of that charity. Is it local?" I ask.

"Yes. Harriet says that it was originally formed to help local families going through financial hardship, thus the name, giving thanks for what you have by giving back to the community. Over the last five years, they've expand their services. Now, among other things, they support a food bank and a shelter for battered women. Most recently, they've recognized that, though the standard necessities such as food, clothing and shelter are universal, military families have needs that other families don't have, so they formed a division with the exclusive purpose of helping the families of service men and women, as well as veterans who are in need of some sort of support or guidance. Though I volunteered to help her with the variety show at Walter Reed, stuff envelopes or do any other menial labor that she needs, Harriet wants me to attend their meeting on Wednesday because she thinks that, since I bring both military and legal knowledge to the table, I might be able to help at the divisional level."

"Sounds like a very worthy cause. Let me know if there's anything that I can do to help," I state sincerely.

"I don't think that I can ask you for any help." I give her a puzzled look, and she adds, "You see, Harriet promised Bud not to ask their friends, family or co-workers for favors or contributions," Mac states.

"If you ask me, Harriet isn't asking, is she?" I say with a mischievous grin. "Besides, I just volunteered. If you think that I can be of help with something, let me know, and I'll see what I can do."

She gives me a warm smile in response to my words.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**BEDTIME**

**MAC'S POV**

I move from the bathroom, where I've just finished putting on my pajamas and brushing my teeth, and head towards our bed.

"I wanted to say thank you for being supportive of my involvement with Harriet's charity for the next few weeks," I say to Harm after reaching the bed where he's already lying down.

"I'm just hoping that this charity work gives you the same satisfaction that you got from working on the Chissom case."

"I guess I'll have to wait to find out on Wednesday if I can be of any help to them before I'll know the answer to that," I say, slipping into bed.

"What time is your meeting on Wednesday?" he asks.

"I wrote it down, but I don't remember off hand, why?"

"I was just wondering if you'll be able to make it to the meeting since you have a doctor's appointment on the same day."

"If the times interfere with one another, I'll reschedule my doctor's appointment."

"But you've already rescheduled it once," he states like it's some kind of crime to have to reschedule a second time.

"I can't very well change the charity's meeting time since I'm not even a member, now can I?"

My response comes out with more than a touch of indignation.

"No, I guess not," he replies, sounding defeated. "It's just that your appointment is important, too. Remember that you aren't recovering from just having a baby. You also had surgery that night, too."

Now he sounds worried.

"If I need to reschedule, I'll be putting it off for only a few more days and, since I feel fine, I'm not worried about it, so neither should you," I say, trying to alleviate his concern about the state of my wellness.

"I don't think that you should put it off," he states firmly.

Though there was no anger in his voice when he spoke, I know that it was his way of making sure that I know that he won't be pleased if I postpone my appointment again.

"I'm fine, really … and I won't put it off if I don't have to, okay?" I say, hoping that he'll let the subject drop, because I don't want this to turn into an argument. I then lean over and briefly brush my lips over his.

**HARM'S POV**

I know that the kiss means that she wants to end our discussion, but I'm apprehensive about letting the topic drop.

Fearful that she'll take my persistence with the subject as being only about getting back to having sex, I decide that I should let it go for now.

"I'm a little tired tonight, so let's get some sleep. We've got another full day scheduled for tomorrow," I say, and by doing so she knows that I'm agreeing to drop the subject of her doctor's appointment for tonight.

As I lay my head on my pillow, I offer a silent prayer that she doesn't postpone the appointment again and that her visit goes well enough that she feels comfortable in beginning a dialogue about her surgery that we – seven weeks later – still haven't had.


	16. Chapter 16

**PART THREE**

**WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 2008**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1630**

**HARM'S POV**

Mac's doctor's appointment was this morning and the charity meeting that she had was this afternoon, so she thought that she'd be able to do both things today, but as I approach our front door, I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that she didn't go to the doctor.

Maybe I'm wrong, and it isn't that she didn't go, but that the appointment didn't go well.

That thought doesn't make me feel any better.

Standing outside in the chilly air when a warm home is just behind the door doesn't make sense, so I turn my key in the lock and push open the front door.

**LIVING ROOM**

I'm standing in the doorway to the living room when, looking up only momentarily, Ty says, "Hi, Dad."

"Hi, Harm," Frank says, staring at the TV screen.

I enter the room to look to see what has both Ty and Frank's attention and find that they are playing a race car game on the game console that Frank has purchased since my parents have been here.

"He's winning again, Frank," I comment.

"Always," Frank says with a smile.

Ty may always beat him, but Frank loves the time that they spend together, so I know that he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Where are my girls?" I ask the two of them, who are concentrating too hard on their game to pay much attention to me.

"I don't know if they're all in there or not, but you'll find at least part of them in the kitchen," Frank answers distractedly.

So I set a course for the kitchen. However, before I can take a step, I feel a small hand clutching my pant leg.

"Well, hello to you, too, Matthew," I say, bending to lift my son, who's walking, but is still a little unsteady on his feet.

Where did you come from?" I ask as I stand upright with him in my arms, though I'm not expecting an answer because he's only thirteen months old and isn't saying much yet.

"There you are. I turned around to grab a diaper, and he was gone," my mother says, coming into the living room from the hallway.

"Dodging a diaper change isn't good, Son," I say, tickling him.

Over the sound of Matthew giggling and babbling as if he has a response to my comment, my mother says, "If you'll hand him over, I'll get him changed so that I can help Sarah with dinner."

"I'll change him, Mom."

"No, you just walked in the door. I'll do it," she says, reaching for Matthew. "Besides, it'll give him and me a minute to have a talk about him not running off and giving me a scare like that again."

Letting her take Matthew, I say, "Then I'm off to the kitchen to say hello to my girls."

"Well, you'll find your grandmother and Sami in there, but Abigail is in her room practicing her little heart out and Mac's in the den. She came home all excited about the charity that Harriet is involved with now, and after having some tea with us, Mac excused herself to make some phone calls and send a few emails to help Harriet."

Having been informed of the locations of everyone else, I ask, "Patty asleep in the nursery?"

"She might be, but I don't think so. I think that Mac has her in the den with her," my mother answers over her shoulder while departing the room with my son, who's wiggling to get down so that he can toddle around.

I decide that I'll check in with my grandmother, who may have her hands full if she's trying to prepare dinner with Sami in there 'helping' her.

**KITCHEN**

"Daddy!" Sami squeals almost before I get into the kitchen.

She seems to have developed the same awareness that Mac has to my presence.

"Has my ladybug been a good girl today?" I ask, scooping her up and giving her a big hug.

"Yep!" she answers proudly.

"Have you?" I ask Sami while looking towards my grandmother for verification.

After getting a nod of agreement from my grandmother that Sami has been a good girl, I say, "That's what I like to hear." Then I give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Were you good today, Daddy?" Sami asks.

"I was," I answer, a little surprised by her question.

"Who can we call to verify that?" my grandmother asks teasingly.

"I'm a department of one these days, so I guess you'll just have to take my word for it," I answer with a grin.

"Daddy wouldn't lie," Sami says in my defense.

"Thank you, Sami," I say, rewarding her support with another kiss on the cheek.

"Do you need for me to do anything, Grandma?" I ask.

"No, we decided on vegetable soup for dinner. Trish helped me chop everything, and Sami is going to help me stir it, so go about your business. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes."

"Then I'm going to go say hello to your sisters and Momma while you help Gee Gee," I say, giving Sami another little squeeze before putting her down.

**GIRLS' ROOM **

Leaving the kitchen, I had to make the decision to come either here or go to the den next.

Since the report from the doctor will hopefully lead Mac and me to finally talk about the consequences of her surgery, which would take time and I'd miss saying hello to Abigail before dinner, I decided to stop by the girls' room to check on Abigail before I changed clothes and headed to the den to see my wife.

I hear my princess playing Silent Night as I approach the door.

Then, without the previous song being played to the end, the song changes to Deck the Halls.

I tap on the door, but I don't wait for Abigail to respond before opening it.

"Hi, Abigail," I say, and the music stops.

"Hi, Daddy," she says softly, glancing over at me.

"I came in to tell you that I'm home."

"I've finished my homework," she states.

"That's good. I heard you practicing. Both of your songs sounded good, but why did you stop playing Silent Night without finishing it? Is that the way your teacher wants you to do it for the show?" I ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to her.

"No," she says, starting to squirm.

I believe that she thinks that I'm asking because I disapprove of her performance, but I'm really just trying to talk to her, and since a love of music is something that we share, I thought that it would always be the common bond that we could fall back on to get us back on track when we disagreed on something - though I figure that it will be a few more years before that happens, and that a boy will probably be involved if our relationship goes into the ditch.

"You played both songs beautifully. I was just wondering about the arrangement, Princess," I say, hoping that my praising her performance will help, and she _was _playing very well, so I'm not lying to her.

"Mrs. Jonas picked the songs, and I don't want to play Silent Night," Abigail says with a little 'sass' in her voice, a tone that I can't recall ever hearing from her before.

"Why don't you want to play that song?" I ask.

"Because I want to play happy songs to make the hurt soldiers feel better, and the tune for Silent Night is sad," Abigail answers.

"What songs do you want to play for them?" I ask curiously.

"Deck the Halls is okay," she says before playing a few notes of the song.

"I think that the other song should be Jingle Bells. It's a happy song," she says before playing a few bars of that one, too.

"Did you ask Mrs. Jonas if you could play a different song?"

"No," she answers with a sigh.

"Then why don't I take you to your lesson this week, and you and I can ask Mrs. Jonas if you can change songs?"

"You would do that for me?" she asks excitedly.

"I would," I say with a big smile.

"Oh, thank you, Daddy," she says, pushing her practice keyboard aside to give me a hug.

"You're welcome," I say, hugging her.

Then she suddenly pulls away and announces, "I need to practice Deck the Halls until dinner."

"I'll go let Momma know that I'm home while you practice then," I say before standing to leave the room.

**DEN**

After leaving Abigail's room, I went to the master bedroom and changed into blue jeans and a pullover sweater before coming to the den to check in with Mac.

The second that I enter the room, Mac looks up from the computer screen to look at me.

"Hey, you're home," she says softly, pushing against the desk to stand.

"Yeah, I've been home for a few minutes," I respond, slightly distracted.

The tone in her greeting and the expression on her face as she moves out from behind the desk suggests that she's upset.

Now I'm wishing that I'd come in here before going into the kitchen or checking on Abigail.

"Mac..." I say as she steps into my arms. "...how did your doctor's appointment go this morning?"

"Fine," she says as she places her palms on my chest.

"Then why are you upset?" I ask, a little confused by her behavior.

"I just read an email from Peggy."

Relieved that it isn't something about her health, but curious as to why an email from her friend would upset her, I ask, "How is she doing?"

"Not good … she's very upset because Dan told her that he's been seeing someone."

"Why would that upset her at this point? They've been divorced for almost a year."

"It isn't him dating that's upsetting to her. It's the fact that Dan wants a change in their custody agreement because the woman is pregnant, and Dan wants Peggy to allow DJ to live with him, Jenny - this new woman - and the baby."

"Is Peggy going to agree to the change?" I ask as I begin to pull Mac to me.

She again resists my attempt to embrace her, opting to keep eye contact with me as she speaks. However, wanting to have physical contact with her, I place my hands on her hips.

"I don't know. From reading Peggy's email, she feels that Dan having a baby with someone else, especially less than a year after the divorce, is a personal attack on her, given that she said that, in his deposition to the court on their petition for divorce, Dan attributed the reason for the failure of their marriage to 'the strain and "inconvenience" of _her_ infertility'.

"Inconvenience?" I say like a question, unsure of the use of the word in that context.

"She says that's the term that Dan used for everything from her having to have shots, to them having to be on a sex schedule, to him having to manually supply his semen. Though I know first-hand about the stress of fertility treatments, I can't believe that he put the blame for the failure of their marriage entirely on her inability to have a child."

"I wonder if that's how Dan really felt or if he was advised by his attorney to lay it all on her. Since her income exceeded his, maybe Dan or his attorney thought that he might be awarded more money in the settlement for his _suffering _if the fault was put all on Peggy."

"I suppose that it could've been attorney-influenced," Mac replies. "I wish that Dan hadn't followed his or her advice and had opted to say that trying to have a child took center stage in their relationship, and they lost focus on each other and their marriage." Mac sighs. "It makes me sad that, after getting the baby that she'd wanted so much, she found that she'd lost her husband along the way." Then she relaxes against me, placing her forehead against my chest.

"A situation that will be made worse if they get into a custody battle over DJ," I say, embracing her tightly.

Feeling that, not only is she feeling sad for her friend, but that there's a certain amount of 'that could've happened to us' going through her mind, I don't push for more information about her visit to the doctor. Instead, I hold her close, hoping that my embrace is giving her reassurance and comfort.

I hold her until the silence in the den is broken by cries from our baby girl, who's in her bassinet a few feet away.

"I think that someone wants her dinner before we eat," I say as I relax my hold on Mac.

"It is that time, but I've got a couple of emails that I'd like to send out tonight, hoping to increase the chances that I'll get responses back before the weekend. Would you mind feeding her while I wrap up in here?"

"Of course I wouldn't mind having time with my baby girl," I say, moving to pick up our crying infant.

Having lifted Patty into my arms, I leave the den to warm up a bottle to feed the precious little one who I'm carrying.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**BEDTIME**

Mac had been upset in the den, but she'd seemed to have shaken it by the time that she'd arrived at the dinner table where she'd become animated when speaking about the work that she hoped to get done with the Giving Thanks By Giving Back organization.

Once dinner had ended, the normal family time before bed and bath time kept me from questioning Mac about her doctor's appointment.

With Patty asleep in her bassinet on Mac's side of the bedroom, I'm sure that she doesn't have resuming a sexual relationship with me tonight on her mind.

However, I'd like to know if it's because of the fact that she had a busy day and she's tired, she isn't interested in making love for some reason, the doctor said that it was too soon, or if she was given some other reason for us not to show our love physically. So, I'm sitting up in bed, waiting for Mac to come into the room so that I can ask her some questions.

When Mac comes out of the bathroom dressed for bed, I'm about to ask about her appointment, but I don't get the opportunity.

"With all that was going on today, I forgot to tell you that Mattie called before you got home. She's isn't coming home this weekend," she informs me.

I raise my hand in the universal sign for stop.

"Don't tell me. Let me guess. She and Kyle have plans."

"Yes," Mac says, pulling back the covers on her side of the bed.

"This will be the third weekend in a row that she hasn't come home, the third one since she mentioned Kyle to us. Maybe we should show up out there on Saturday morning at say 0530," I suggest seriously.

"Why so early?" Mac questions, interrupting what was probably going to be a rant.

"To hold bed check to see if that boy is sleeping with my daughter," I reply, not trying to hide my anger at the thought of finding him in her bed.

"Harm..." Mac says before putting her hand on my shoulder to calm me." ...she isn't a little girl, and though I do hope that she isn't having sex yet, especially with this boy who she's known since only Halloween and who we haven't met, she's a young woman, and who she sleeps with is her choice."

I know that Mac's right, but I don't have to like it.

Thinking more clearly, I admit to myself that Mattie is headstrong and would see a bed check as a violation of my faith and trust in her, causing a breach in our relationship, and if this boy breaks her heart, she'll need me.

"Then I guess we won't be taking a trip to Blacksburg this weekend."

"I think it's for the best," she says, patting my shoulder.

Removing her hand from my shoulder, she starts to position herself for sleep.

"Maybe you could make an appointment for her with your doctor. You know, for a checkup and for..." My voice trails off.

"...Birth control," Mac finishes for me as she places her hand on my arm. "She can get birth control through the student medical clinic at Tech. On the phone today, she promised that she'll be here for Thanksgiving next week. So, to address your concern, I'll talk to her then about boys, birth control and whether she has a doctor or would be more comfortable with seeing mine."

"Thank you," I reply, still feeling tense about the subject, but relieved that Mac is going to talk to her soon. Then I lay back to get settled into bed myself.

"You're welcome," she says softly before bringing her lips to mine in a sweet, lingering kiss.

When she pulls her lips away, I say, "Speaking of Mattie seeing a doctor, tell me what your doctor said today."

"She told me that I was healing nicely and that the incision would lose the pink hue and would get smaller as it continues to heal before she listed the benefits of me still having my ovaries. However, nothing she said about it was different than what she told me when she talked to me after the surgery in the hospital."

"Since you were on pain medication, I'm sure that she was just making sure that you'd taken in the information."

"Probably so," Mac replies.

"Did she amend her instructions on your physical limitations?" I ask, keeping the question general and hoping to cover my eager interest in knowing if we can make love again.

"She said that she could find no medical reason for any restrictions, so I can resume all normal activities, but that I should remember to take it slow, stop if I have any pain or bleeding and, if either of those happen, call to make an appointment."

"All normal activities..." I let my question trail off there because just asking if I'm correct and it includes us making love would make me seem insensitive to what her body has been through.

"Yes, all, even lovemaking as long as I feel ready to resume."

"Are you feeling ready?" I ask, and immediately hope that it didn't sound as pleading to her as it did to my own ears.

"No," she says before quickly adding, "Not tonight, I mean, a lot happened today ... if that's okay with you."

I place my lips on hers and give her a tender and lingering kiss.

When I pull my lips from hers, I get no indication that she's changed her mind. In fact, the look in her eye suggests that she's feeling pressured to have sex to make me happy, and that isn't what I was trying to do.

I'd hoped that my kiss would let her know that I want her, uterus or not, scars or not, so I put my arm around her and pull her to me.

"Of course it's okay," I say with understanding, which covers my disappointment.

She snuggles into my side, placing her arm around my waist and holding on to me tightly.

Holding her close, I place a kiss in her hair and then say softly, "I love you."

She whispers back, "And I love you." Then she gives me a squeeze with her arm that's around my waist.

I hold her that way until her breathing evens out and I know that she's fallen asleep.

After staring at the ceiling, wondering if she's keeping something about her recovery from me or if she just still needs time to come to terms with the reality that she'll never have another child, I reach the conclusion that I can't rush her and that she needs the time that she needs, so I fall asleep holding her.


	17. Chapter 17

**PART FOUR**

**SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2008**

**ROBERTS' HOME **

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1255**

**HARM'S POV**

I press the doorbell button.

Since Mac had planned to bring Abigail today so that she and Harriet could talk about charity business while our daughter had her piano lesson, Mac and I both ended up bringing Abigail, Mac to speak with Harriet, and me to speak with Mrs. Jonas about her selection of Abigail's songs for the show next month.

Mac had offered to talk to Mrs. Jonas, saying that there was no sense in both of us going to ask if there was a reason for the songs that she'd chosen and, if not, requesting that Abigail be allowed to play the songs that she felt were happier ones for the people in the hospital. However, though I understood what she was saying and I appreciated her offer, I felt that I needed to do it personally since I'd told Abigail that _I'd_ speak to Mrs. Jonas.

I don't think that Mac understood the reason for my insistence, but she didn't fight me on it, and it soon turned into a family affair because Ty wanted to come along to see AJ, and Sami wanted to play with Nikki.

The door opens, and Harriet's welcoming smile greets us before she's said a word.

"Hello and come in," she says, quickly stepping aside to allow the five of us to enter her home.

"I knew that the weather was cold, but that wind, my goodness, it takes the chill through you to the bone," she adds as we pass by her.

"Yes, and they say that it's going to stay windy for the next couple of days and that we should have snow for Thanksgiving," Mac says conversationally as we remove our coats.

"Is the snow going to change your parents' plans to take your grandmother to Pennsylvania, Harm?" Harriet asks.

"I'll have to ask them about it. Though I don't think that it'll cause them to cancel their plans, it may cause them to postpone their departure date," I reply. "I think that they're about due for a break," I continue, eyeing the children.

I don't want to say it in front of the kids for fear that they'd misunderstand, but being in a house with five young children when you're used to living alone or with only a spouse may require them to take a time out, no matter how much they love their grandchildren.

"We can all use a break every once in a while, can't we?" Harriet says with a laugh and a nod of understanding.

"Every now and then," I reply with a smile.

"Where's Nikki?" Sami asks somewhat impatiently. After all, she's been out of her coat for all of thirty seconds.

"She's upstairs in her room. If you remember the way, you can go on up," Harriet answers.

Sami heads for the stairs.

"What do you say, Samantha?" I ask her.

Sami stops at the use of her full first name and says, "Thank you, Aunt Harriet."

Bud hated being called Mister Bud, and now with us living so close to them that the children see them regularly, Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bud seems to work better for everyone.

"You're welcome," Harriet says, releasing my impatient little girl to go find her friend.

"Is AJ still having his piano lesson?" Ty asks.

"He's given up the piano, so you'll find him in the den working on a model with Uncle Bud," Harriet answers.

"May I go in there to see him?" Ty asks politely.

"You may," Harriet answers with a smile.

"Dad, are you coming with me to see Uncle Bud?" Ty asks.

"You go ahead without me. I'm going with Abigail so that I can speak with her teacher, and then I'll come and join you," I reply.

"Okay," Ty replies before heading off to the den.

"Since you and Abigail know where you're going, I'm going to the kitchen with your wife to discuss business, including a problem that came up yesterday afternoon," Harriet says, seemingly discouraged, which is unusual for her.

"Have fun," I say before heading for the living room with Abigail, where the piano and Mrs. Jonas are waiting for her.

**SUV**

**EN ROUTE HOME**

Pulling out onto the street, Mac is rubbing her temples and, before I can ask, Abigail questions her about it.

"Momma, did my playing the piano give you a headache like Aunt Harriet gets when AJ plays?"

"No, Princess. You play beautifully, and I love listening to your music. What gave Momma the headache was trying to come up with a solution to the problem that Aunt Harriet was telling me about concerning our project, not your lesson," Mac answers.

"What's the problem, Momma?" Ty asks curiously.

"Aunt Harriet told me that the videographer who'd agreed to do our promotional piece backed out yesterday, so we aren't going to be able to have the video presentation that we'd planned at the fundraiser next month, which could put all the projects on hold," Mac explains.

"That seems simple to fix. Hire another videographer," I state.

"What's a videographer?" Abigail asks before Mac can respond to me.

Mac turns her head to look in the backseat. "It's a person who takes video or moving pictures instead of still pictures like they take of you at school," Mac replies, answering Abigail before turning her head in my direction to respond to my comment. "It would be that simple if we had the funds, but we don't have any, hence the reason for the fundraiser," she says, sounding frustrated.

"Surely either you or Harriet could persuade someone to do it for the same price as the guy who backed out, and if it's a matter of getting your deposit back from the first guy, as an attorney, I'm sure that, if you threatened him with a lawsuit, you'd get the money returned to the charity."

"There's no money to get back. He'd agreed to do it in exchange for having his company's name on the fundraising materials in hopes that the advertising would generate paying jobs for him."

Seeing her plight more clearly now, I state the obvious point that she was trying to make, but that I didn't understand because I didn't have all the facts.

"Finding another videographer who'll work for free does make it more difficult. I'm sure that, once you stop thinking so hard about it, something will come to you."

"Momma, did you ask Daddy to help?" Abigail asks.

"No, but since he takes a pretty good home movie, I might have to ask him, but only as a last resort because he already has a job," Mac says with a humorous smile.

"I didn't mean to have Daddy make the movie. I meant did you ask Daddy to help fix your problem. I told Daddy that I didn't want to play Silent Night, and he talked to Mrs. Jonas. Now I don't have to play that song. I can play Jiggle Bells instead. He fixed it. I'll bet that Daddy can fix your problem, too."

The confidence and pride in my daughter's voice at her daddy 'fixing' a problem has me smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary.

"Well, Daddy is a pretty good 'fix it' man. I just might have to get him to help me with my problem, too," Mac says to Abigail before looking at me with a loving smile.

I get the feeling that Mac wants to ask me how I was able to get Mrs. Jonas to change her mind, but fearful that the answer will tarnish my reputation with Abigail, Ty and Sami, who are also in the car, she refrains, opting to ask a question on a completely different topic as I make the turn onto our street.

"Aunt Harriet gave us a tasty snack, but I'm still a little hungry. Does anyone else want something to eat when we get home?"

**RABB RENTAL HOME  
MANASSAS, VA**

**1600**

**MAC'S POV**

Harm's grandmother shooed us all from the kitchen when we offered to help with dinner, so Harm and I are playing cards with Ty, Abigail and Sami while Matt sits on the floor playing close by, and Patty is asleep in her bassinet in the room.

I normally love to have play time with the whole family together like this, but today I'd hoped to work on a solution to the videographer problem when we got home, so my mind hasn't really been on the game.

When the doorbell rings, I'm glad to have the interruption, so I'm already getting to my feet when I say, "I'll get it."

I look out the peephole and, seeing someone who I know, I open the door with a smile on my face.

"Kevin, it's good to see you, though I'm a little surprised. Didn't you know that Mattie wasn't coming home this weekend?"

"No, I didn't know, not that I'm surprised since she and Kyle seem to be joined at the hip on campus, but it doesn't matter. I'm not here to see Mattie. I'm here to see you and Mr. Rabb to show you the video that I made for class."

"Oh, yes. The last couple of days have been hectic, and it slipped my mind that you were going to be coming by today."

"If this is a bad time, I'll come back later or tomorrow. I just want you and Mr. Rabb to preview it before I have to turn it into my professor."

"No, don't be silly. You were professional and made an appointment to see us today. I'm not going to ask you to reschedule when _I_ had a lapse of memory. So, come in," I say, stepping aside to allow him to enter our home.

"Would you like something to drink?" I ask as I close the door once he's stepped inside.

"No thank you, Ma'am. I'll just show you the video to make sure that it meets with your approval and then I'll be on my way."

"Okay," I say as I walk passed him so that he can follow me into the living room.

**LIVING ROOM**

"Hello, Mr. Rabb."

"Hello, Kevin," Harm greets him, not sounding the least bit surprised to see him when we enter the room.

'I guess I'm the only one who forgot that he was coming by this afternoon,' I think as Kevin, Ty, Abigail and Sami exchange hellos.

With the children anxious to see the 'movie' about their family, I sit down next to Harm while Kevin inserts the DVD into our player.

**THIRTY-THREE MINUTES LATER **

**KEVIN'S POV**

The credits start to roll on the short movie about how the Rabb family is a little different, and not because their parents have blended both adopted and biological children to form the family, but because they're a military family.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Rabb, that's it. What do you think?" I ask nervously.

Mr. and Mrs. Rabb are exchanging looks that are causing me to feel panicked because, if they don't like it, I don't have enough time to shoot another film for class before the deadline.

Thinking about the time that I have left before my project is due, I quickly decide that I'll be okay if all that's needed is a little editing. I might be cutting it close, but if I need to reshoot a scene, maybe two at the most, I might be able to get it done in time.

"If I got something wrong or if you don't like something about it, I still have time to change it before I have to turn it in to be graded," I say, trying not to sound as scared as I'm feeling while I wait for one of them to make a comment.

**MAC'S POV**

"I think it's a great piece," Harm says before putting his hand on my knee.

I'm sure that his touch isn't just an act to show affection, but also to let me know that he knows what I'm thinking - that the answer to my videographer problem knocked on my front door thirty-four minutes ago - and he agrees with me and supports me in asking Kevin to do the job.

"I do, too." I pause for a heartbeat before forging ahead with my plan to land a free videographer. "You said earlier that, if it was a bad time, you could come back later. Does that mean that you don't have any plans for this evening?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I mean no. I don't have any plans for tonight."

Kevin's tone indicated that he's feeling uncomfortable at the moment.

"Then, please stay for dinner."

"That's very nice of you, but without Mattie here..." Kevin's voice trails off.

"I hate to say this, but I wasn't just being nice. I love the piece that you did on our family, and I have a proposition for you."

Kevin's eyes become wide as if he's shocked by what I've said, and then - Oh for heaven's sake, surely he knows that I wouldn't "hit" on one of Mattie's friends, especially in front of my young children and husband, but the hormones of a college boy sometimes override good sense.

"I have a business proposal for you," I say flatly, hoping to end any 'Mrs. Robinson' fantasy scenario that's playing in his head.

"It's for charity, so you wouldn't get paid for it, but the job falls into your field of study. Perhaps you could submit it as your next project for your filmmaking class. I'm sure that you could strike a deal with Giving Thanks By Giving Back that would allow you to show the promotional piece for grading," I say, giving him a little more information. "Are you interested?"

"Yes, anytime that I can film something, I'm interested, but I've never filmed a commercial," Kevin states.

"We don't want a commercial. We want something like what you did on our family, only shorter. Why don't I go get the information that was given to me and let you look it over, and then you can think it over while we have dinner?" I say, getting to my feet to go get the information from my briefcase.

"We normally wouldn't be scrambling at the last minute to find someone, but the person who was going to do it backed out of the deal yesterday, and one of the things that they want filmed for the piece is our Thanksgiving supper for families of deployed servicemen next week. So, I hate to push you, but if you're interested in doing it, I'll need to know tonight so that I can talk to the woman who'll make the final decision on whether you'll get the job or not," I explain before leaving the living room for the den.

**LIVING ROOM**

**1900**

**HARRIET'S POV**

When Mac called before dinner to tell me that a friend of Mattie's who's studying film making wanted to do the job after seeing the outline of what the project entailed, I was reluctant to allow a novice to shoot the promotional piece.

I think that Mac sensed my skepticism because she said that, if I had time after dinner, I should come over to see a sample of the young man's work, his latest school film, to see if I approved of his style and thought that he could do justice to the charity project.

Having just watched the thirty-minute piece that he did on my friends, I'm sure that he's the right person for the job.

"What do you think, Harriet?" Mac asks as I stare at the screen in disbelief that a student shot and edited what I just saw.

"I think he's hired." I pause before quickly adding, "You did tell him that he isn't going to get paid, didn't you?" I ask, fearful that, without monetary compensation, a student wouldn't be interested in doing the work.

"Yes, I told him, and he's on board as long as he can have a few concessions," Mac replies.

"What kind of concessions?" I ask, fearing that this will be the deal breaker.

"He wants to be given credit for his work. Basically, any place where the previous guy's name was being printed, Kevin wants his name, and he'd like for Giving Thanks By Giving Back to give him a letter of reference if we like the finished project and he wants permission to turn in the piece for grading as a class assignment or to show as a sample of his work to potential employers."

"Done! When can you tell him that he has the job so that I can confirm the shooting events and dates?"

"Kevin," Mac yells, and a young man darts into the room from the direction of the Rabb kitchen.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**PART FIVE**

**SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2008 ****- continued**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME  
MANASSAS, VA**

**2130**

**HARM'S POV**

Instead of changing out of my jeans and shirt to get ready for bed, I've been pacing while thinking over what I could do or say differently tonight to put my wife in the mood to make love.

When we got into bed on Thursday night with Patty once again asleep in the bassinet in our room, Mac snuggled into my side, placed her arm around my waist, gave me a gentle squeeze and said, "Good night." All of those things were pretty obvious hints that it wasn't the time for me to initiate lovemaking, so I held her, and we fell asleep snuggled together in the middle of our bed.

Last night, she'd put Patty to bed in her crib in the nursery, but after giving her more than a passing kiss good night, there was no reaction from her that gave me any indication that she was ready for anything other than sleep.

I understand that, just because the doctor told her that she could return to doing all normal activities, it doesn't mean that it magically makes her ready to make love again, especially given that, seven weeks ago she gave birth and had surgery, nearly bleeding to death in the process.

"She's never said that she blames me for what happened since I'm the one who got her pregnant or that she doesn't want me anymore," I say to myself in an attempt to keep my thoughts positive. "Mac said that she isn't ready, so I need to stop taking it personally, and be patient and more sensitive to her needs."

Of course, that's easier said than done, not only because I'm sick of taking cold showers, but because I'm thankful for having her in my life, for her being the woman who she is and for her loving me enough to be the one with whom she chose to have children ... and for a man, one way of expressing his gratitude to a woman with whom he's crazy in love is to make love to her.

Tonight, I'd hoped to be able to do just that – make love to my wife - but she's been in the nursery for almost forty minutes, and it's never taken that long for Patty to eat and fall asleep. So it has me wondering if, after three days of nothing more than a kiss happening between us, she's trying to avoid me.

"No, more than likely she's having second thoughts about having Patty sleep in her crib in the nursery instead of the bassinet in our room," I say out loud, trying to give myself a rational reason for Mac taking so long instead of letting myself get carried away with negative thoughts.

"I need to find out which one!" I state firmly before leaving our bedroom to go to the nursery.

**NURSERY**

**SAME TIME**

**MAC'S POV**

I'm standing next to my daughter's crib, unable to bring myself to take my eyes off my baby girl and leave the room, in small part because this is only the second night that she's slept in the nursery, but another reason is that I'm also avoiding my husband tonight.

I've heard the shower come on at odd times of night and felt Harm's chilled skin when he's come back to bed after a cold shower. He deserves to know that I do want him, too, but that I'm just apprehensive about being with him since my surgery.

It's funny how your mind can keep you from dealing with things that you don't want to face, but after seven weeks of avoiding the thoughts, seeing the doctor on Wednesday forced me to face the fact that the precious baby asleep in her crib is going to be my last child, nor can I keep from addressing my fear about being intimate with my husband.

When my endometriosis was first diagnosed, not only was I emotionally reeling from the news that I'd probably never have a child, it also brought up doubts in my mind that I'd ever find a man who'd not only love me but stay with me despite the fact that I couldn't give him a child.

My feelings were intensified at the time by the fact that the man with whom I'd spent the previous year trying to convince myself that I loved was pretending to have died, leaving me not only grieving, but with no one to lean on, to say reassuring words that I wasn't being punished for my life's mistakes or that I was somehow less deserving of love because I couldn't have children.

Whether you believe in a god of some kind or believe in some spiritual guide or just call it fate, I have to say that some_one_ or some_thing _was looking out for me by not having Webb in my life at the time that I got the news.

Since I don't know if Clayton wanted children, I don't know if he would've left me eventually because it appeared that I couldn't have any, but I don't believe that he'd have left immediately, which means that I'd have leaned on him, and that would've led me to hold on to that relationship even longer than the year that I did, making it even more detrimental to my mental health in the long run.

Well, maybe him still being in my life wouldn't have made much difference since he wasn't around much of the time, so I still would've been dealing with it on my own for the most part.

Of course, if Webb had still been part of my life, I'm sure that Harm wouldn't have reminded me about our deal that night at the admiral's Dining Out, which forced me to tell him what was going on and about the procedure that I'd had earlier that day.

Though I hadn't been told the final odds yet, Harm's reaction was one of understanding, yet he didn't wallow in the negativity, but rather listed the options that might still be available to me ... to us.

Harm's reaction that night gave me yet another reason to love him. He has a way of accepting bad news without letting it defeat him.

Though I wasn't in a place emotionally to express it to him then, I knew that Harm was offering me hope and not pity, which was exactly the support that I needed at the time - his support.

His attempt to talk to me about my condition after he'd done some reading confirmed that he was sincere and would be there for me when I was ready.

Harm's support at that time when he was only my friend and didn't have to discuss it with me - be gentle with my feelings or offer me hope - is why I'm now certain that he won't leave me because I lost my uterus and can no longer have children.

We have six children, and I gave birth to two of them, so though having the option taken from me is a hard pill to swallow, not being able to get pregnant again isn't what I've been struggling with since the doctor told me that I was healed well enough to attempt intercourse again.

**2140**

Assuming that the comforting feeling of him being near is because he's in my thoughts, it isn't until he's standing behind me, already wrapping his arms around my waist that I know that he's entered the nursery.

"She's going to be our last baby," I say.

"Are you okay with that?" he asks nervously.

"I don't like having the choice taken from me, but yeah, I'm okay with it. How about you? Are you okay with it?"

He tilts his head down until its low enough that his breath tickles my neck when he speaks.

"When you think about it, there's no reason to have any more children. My little doll is healthy and beautiful. How could we improve on perfection?"

The fatherly pride in his voice when he speaks convinces me that he's sincere.

I turn in his arms enough that I can snake an arm around his waist.

"If you've been in here staring at her because you don't want her to sleep in here again tonight, we can take her into our room," he says quietly.

"No, she's fine in here. I'd like to spend some time alone with my handsome husband tonight."

"I'd love to spend some time alone with my smokin' hot wife, too," he says with a grin.

"After having two children, I don't believe that I fall in that category anymore."

"Do to me," he counters before he brushes his lips over mine.

It's barely a kiss, but it's definitely a show of his affection for me.

"Then let's go to our room. I think that we need to talk," I say before pulling from his embrace and heading out of the nursery with him right behind me.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**MOMENTS LATER**

**HARM'S POV**

'Talking isn't really what I'd prefer to be doing, but if what she wants to talk about will help her work through whatever insecurities that she has about how I feel about not having any more children or about how desirable I believe that she is, then I'm willing to talk all night,' I think as I close our bedroom door behind me.

I turn around and walk to her so that I'm standing in front of her.

Her arms come up around my neck and her lips come to mine.

When our kiss comes to a natural close, I look into her eyes.

"Does that kiss mean that you've forgiven me for getting you pregnant, a pregnancy that almost killed you?"

**MAC'S POV**

"Oh, Harm, I've had a lot of thoughts go through my head since I woke up in the hospital and found out that they'd had to operate to stop the bleeding. I've gone through being thankful for being alive, sad that I no longer have the choice of whether or not we have more children, happy that my baby girl is okay, glad that I'd been able to carry two babies given the odds that I'd been given ... so many things, but I've never been angry with you. What happened wasn't your fault."

Tears threaten to fall, but I fight to hold them in so that I can continue.

"When the doctor verified her findings of my laparoscopic procedure three years ago and told me of the almost nil chance of me getting pregnant, she also told me that a hysterectomy might eventually be necessary as treatment for my condition, and while I can't dispute the fact that giving birth might have forced it to happen sooner rather than later, I wouldn't have that precious little girl in the other room if I hadn't gotten pregnant. I can neither be angry with you nor regret the love that we made that night that gave me - us - a miracle child, one conceived out of love and without a doctor's assistance or the use of modern technology."

I place my lips on his. My intention is to give him a kiss that confirms that I'm not angry with him. However, enveloped in his arms, I lose myself in the moment and seek to deepen the kiss by gliding my tongue along his lower lip. His lips part, and my tongue slips into his mouth and begins to dance with his.

When the need for air forces us to end our kiss, I open my eyes and see that his eyes are dark and sparkling, the way they are when he's in the mood for lovemaking.

"If you aren't angry with me, does that mean that, if I take things slow and be gentle with you, I'll get to make love to you tonight?" he asks with a waggle of his eyebrows in his deep, seductive bedroom voice.

"I want you to know that my not being ready has nothing to do with me wanting you. I love you very much and I love it when we make love. It's just ..." I can't bring myself to say it.

"It's just what?" he asks with concern.

I haven't had time to put my concern into words of explanation, so I reply with a question, "Aren't you concerned about being with me?"

"No, you told me that the doctor said that you're fine. Did the doctor tell you something that you haven't told me ... something that I should be concerned about?"

"No, the doctor said that I'm fully healed."

"Then?" he asks impatiently.

"I just had a baby," I state, unable to look him in the eye, my fingers nervously playing with the collar of his shirt.

"I know and, after Matthew, I was a little uncertain about intercourse," he says sheepishly.

He shifted his weight while he spoke. He isn't comfortable with talking about this topic.

"Certainly not about whether I wanted to be with you," he adds quickly as our eyes meet. "I'd seen Matthew come into this world ... it just seemed to me that having me invade that space so soon might not be comfortable for you, that it might even hurt, and the last thing that I'd wanted to do was to cause you any pain, especially when being with you feels so good to me. This time, having prior experience and with the knowledge that your doctor has told you that you've healed, I have no concerns about making love to you," he further explains before taking a breath now that he's expressed his feelings on the matter.

After a momentary pause, he speaks again.

"You know that I'd stop no matter how far we were in to it if you felt any discomfort or started to experience any pain," he says emphatically, letting the implied 'right?' part of his question die off as he looks into my eyes.

The look in his eyes at the thought that I don't know that he loves me enough to stop, no matter how uncomfortable that he'd be left feeling, is disarming, and I know that I must be honest with him about my concern now. However, first I want to ease his mind and inform him that I do know that he loves me that much.

"I know, and I don't think that it'll hurt. I'm worried that it'll ... I mean ... there _is_ something missing in there. Aren't you the least bit concerned that sex with me won't feel the same?"

"Well, no, that thought hadn't occurred to me ... but now that you mention it, I guess that it could feel different, but I think that the doctor would've mentioned that 'side effect' at some point," he says slowly, like he's been giving the idea serious thought while he's been speaking.

"What if you don't enjoy being with me now?" I ask.

"I love you, and being with you will always be enjoyable for me," he says compassionately before giving my lips a quick peck of a kiss.

**HARM'S POV**

My lips claim hers, but the loving kiss that I'd envisioned administering becomes more when she keeps my lips engaged longer than I'd planned.

When our kiss does come to a close, I look down into the warm, brown eyes of my wife.

"And I love you," she says near tears when our lips part.

"You know that we're never going to know if we don't try," I say, hoping that she takes it as a gentle prompt and not as me pressuring her.

"What if we aren't still good together?" she asks coyly, being a bit flirtatious.

"Then we'll have to practice more so we'll get better at it," I say suggestively.

"I don't know of any reason why we should put off seeing how rusty we are so we'll know how much practice we're going to need, do you?" she says in a seductive tone as she unbuttons the top button of my shirt.

"I can't think of a single reason to put it off," I say with a mischievous grin, which gives her time to undo another two buttons.

I want to resume kissing her, but I don't want to rush things, so I allow her to finish with the last two buttons and push my shirt off my shoulders and down my arms before I pull her to me, my lips descending on hers in a kiss that I want to become heated.

As the intensity of our kiss increases, I slip my hands under the hem of her top and allow them to roam over the skin of her back.

Soon, I have her top joining my shirt on the floor.

When I pull her to me again, her exposed skin makes contact with my bare chest, and the contact causes my temperature to rise, and it isn't the only thing that rises.

When our most recent kiss comes to a natural close, she looks down at the bugle in my jeans and suggests, "We should get more comfortable." Then she starts to unbutton her jeans.

I reach for the button of my jeans as well, and soon we've added two pairs of denims to the shirts on the floor.

I don't have anything to say other than to suggest that it might be a good time to move to the bed, but I'm unable to speak as I gaze longingly at the woman in her bra and panties whom I love and have been craving for the last several weeks.

Unable to find my voice, I scoop her off her feet and walk over to our bed.

As I lower her lovingly down on the mattress, I realize that this should be considered a first time, of sorts, as I lie down beside her.

Though we've been together before, we're unsure if what she once enjoyed will still feel good to her.

Once I've joined her on the bed, I kiss her gently on the lips before making a trail of kisses along her jaw until I've reached the spot just behind and slightly below her earlobe that's one of her 'sweet spots' and, once I've reached it, I find that the spot hasn't changed when she makes that noise – I call it a purr - the sound that she's always made.

Not wanting to move things forward too quickly, I spend several moments kissing that spot and nibbling on her ear while one hand cups her breast and gently begins to give it some attention.

Taking pride in knowing at least one spot that still excites my wife, I start another trail of kisses down her neck as my hand makes it around to her back and up to her bra hook.

With one flick, I unhook the garment and, once my kisses reach the valley between her breasts, I pull away, but only far enough to remove the undergarment.

Once I've rid her of the obstruction to my mission, I begin to places kisses in the valley between them before moving to her right breast.

After placing a few delicate kisses around the hardening peak, I swirl my tongue around the nipple, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her before I move to do the same to her left breast.

My lips yearning for hers, I move up her body until I claim her mouth in a searing kiss.

Once we got started, it didn't take long for us to hit the familiar rhythms of raising the heat in the room by taking turns at kissing and nipping at the various points that we've learned that the other finds pleasing during our time together, and we've each taken our turn at taking the other to the next level of desire, building to the point where, stripped of the last of our undergarments, I'm fully aroused and crave the warm, moist place that will take me over the edge.

While kissing her passionately, I slip my hand between her legs and, as I did our first time, I push two fingers into her to test her readiness to receive me.

Her hips roll forward, causing my fingers to sink in just a little bit farther into her before I pull them back and push them in again.

After several strokes with my fingers, I remove my hand from the area and position myself above her.

Now under me, I feel her body tense up to the point that it's almost rigid.

Though I'm concerned about how she's feeling, I'm worried that, if I call attention to it, she may change her mind about attempting the actual entry part of intercourse this evening, and though I _would_ stop, it certainly isn't my preference.

However, I don't want her to think that I'm not aware that she's become uncomfortable or anxious about our impending joining, so I decide that proceeding with caution is for the best and force myself to ask, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, go ahead," she says, but she hasn't relaxed, and her eyes are scrunched tightly shut, which is hardly a welcoming invitation.

If I proceed, I risk her being upset with me because I wasn't more sympathetic to how she's feeling. However, having to take matters into my own hands if I don't enter her doesn't sound like a great solution to me at the moment either.

Thinking that, at this same point during our next attempt, I'll be faced with the same choice and that she might not offer me the go ahead as she just did, heartfelt or not, I decide that there's no time like the present to address her concern of how it will feel now that she's had surgery. So, cautiously, I enter her, looking at her face for signs that she's suffering from some sort of discomfort or pain.

Once the full length of my erection is inside of her and I've begun to pull out, she opens her eyes, and her body starts to relax.

When I push back in the second time, she places her hands on the sides of my face and pulls me to her for a kiss.

The kiss must have been her way of telling me that it feels good because, when our kiss ends, she pushes her hips up to meet mine, sending me deeper inside of her with each stroke until her sounds of pleasure push me over the edge, and I erupt inside of her.

Not wanting to put my weight on top of her, I move to lay by her side.

She snuggles into my side, and my arm comes around her to hold her to me.

She places her head on my chest, and I place a kiss in her hair.

"Was it okay for you?" she asks in a hushed tone like she's afraid to ask the question, or maybe it's the answer that she doesn't think that she wants to hear.

"It was more than okay. How was it for you?" Now I'm the one who isn't sure that I want to hear the answer.

"It was wonderful," she says with a contented sigh.

"So you think that you might want to do it again with me sometime?" I ask teasingly.

"Yes, and sometime soon, I hope," she replies, causing me to laugh softly, amused that she's gone from nervous about making love to ready to do it again.

"Well, we could do it again in a little while, but we should probably get some sleep before Patty wakes up to eat," I say, still chuckling.

"True, so in the morning then."

I don't know if she's joking or serious, but I don't care. I love her and I've missed being with her in this way, so if she's feeling up to it in the morning - I'll be ready.


	19. Chapter 19

**PART ****SIX**

**THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2008**

**THANKSGIVING DAY**

**DINING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME **

**MANASSAS, VA**

**OVER BREAKFAST**

**HARM'S POV**

The phone had rung, and Mac had gotten up to answer it. Now she's returned to the room and retaken her seat at the table.

"That was Mattie on the phone," Mac states flatly, giving me the impression that it wasn't a pleasant conversation.

"She didn't call to cancel for this weekend again…not for the holiday, did she?" my mother questions, stating my initial thought when I found out who was on the phone.

"When we invited that boy to our Thanksgiving dinner, I thought that, since we're having our dinner a day later so that he wouldn't miss dinner with his family, it would ensure that she'd come home this weekend," my grandmother states, sounding disappointed that inviting the boyfriend hadn't worked, though Mac hasn't yet confirmed that it's why Mattie called.

"She'll be here for dinner. In fact, that's why she called ... to let us know that she got an early start this morning and that she should be here in about an hour. She also wanted us to know that Kyle isn't coming to dinner," Mac informs us.

"Did she say why he isn't coming?" my mother asks.

"She didn't say, and I didn't ask. If they've stopped dating, I thought that telling me might be painful for her, and I didn't want her to be driving while she was upset," Mac explains.

"Then I'd better get to baking right after breakfast because nothing goes better with girl talk than a slice of pie or some homemade cookies," my grandmother says, lifting her fork in an exaggerated manor as if she needs to eat faster now.

**LIVING ROOM**

**0904**

Ding ... dong.

'Kevin is supposed to ride with us to the event site. However, he'd be arriving more than an hour early if that's him, so I doubt that it is,' I think as I get up from the couch when the sound of the doorbell fills the air.

After a quick check of the bassinet to make sure that the noise hasn't awakened Patty, I start to make my way towards the front door.

'Mattie should be here any minute, but she has a key,' I think as I get closer to the door.

I open the door to find that it _is _Mattie, but I don't get a chance to say anything in greeting.

"Dad," she says as she steps into the house and puts her arms around me.

Uttering only a three-letter word, it's hard for me to be sure, but I think that she's upset.

"Mattie, is everything okay?" I ask, wrapping my arms around her and returning her hug.

She pulls back slightly and looks up at me.

"Not really," she responds, but she isn't forthcoming with any information.

"Would I be correct in assuming that, since Kyle cancelled for tomorrow, you're upset because of him?"

She releases her hold on me, but I don't get a verbal response, just an affirmative nod.

"You want to talk about it?" I ask with fatherly concern.

"Not right now," she says, stepping away from me.

"Sorry I had to ring the bell, but I couldn't find my key," she says apologetically while I close the front door.

When I turn around, she asks, "Where is everybody?" She seems surprised that no one has come to see who rang the doorbell.

"Abigail is in her room practicing her songs for the Christmas show. Ty is entertaining Sami and Matthew in his room. Patty is in her bassinet taking a nap in the living room. Mac is on the phone with Frank, who left right after breakfast to meet Harriet, Jack and Linda at the site for the Giving Thanks By Giving Back dinner to start setting up the tables. That leaves my mother and grandmother, who are in the kitchen baking desserts for our holiday meal tomorrow."

"Is everyone going to help with the charity dinner?" Mattie asks.

"No, your grandmother and mine are staying here to hold down the fort, bake and take care of Matthew and Patty. There will be other kids there, including the Roberts' children, so, though I don't know how much help Sami will be, she's coming with us and so is Ty."

"What about Abigail?" Mattie asks in a tone that suggests that she thinks that I left out one of my children.

"After breakfast, Abigail told us that she'd changed her mind. Instead of coming with us, she said that she needed to stay here with Grandma and Gee Gee so that she could help with the babies and practice her songs, so I'm not ruling out her changing her mind again, leaving me unsure which group, staying or going to put her in at the moment. I do know that Mac and I spoke after Abigail's announcement this morning about whether we should take her along for the experience, even if she isn't too keen on the idea, but as Mac pointed out during our chat, she's the one who wanted to work with this charity, not Abigail, and though she's glad that some of us are going along to help, Abigail shouldn't be forced to go if she doesn't want to, especially right now."

Mattie fires questions at me.

"What do you mean by right now? What's happened? Why didn't someone tell me that something happened to Abigail?"

"Nothing's _happened_ to her. It just seems that, as the time has gotten closer for your grandparents and great grandmother to leave for the farm, she's started to cling to them, not wanting to let them out of her sight and already suffering from anxiety about them leaving. So the last thing that we should do is to take her somewhere with a lot of people since she's so shy around strangers."

"It probably doesn't help that I haven't been home in a month and haven't seen her, does it?"

"Probably not..." I begin, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "...but how she's feeling isn't your fault. If someone is to blame, it's me. If I'd retired, we'd still live close to my parents, and she could count down the days until Gee Gee came to stay with us for the winter. Instead, I stayed in the Navy, they moved us across the country and the number of times that I've been away for an assignment hasn't helped. Then, to top it all off, on one of those trips I was injured and spent time in the hospital away from her," I elaborate, sounding a little depressed because, in my effort to keep Mattie from feeling guilty, I've made myself feel that way.

"True…and no one really got to settle back into a routine after you got home before that lunatic started using Gee Gee to get back at you, and then Patty arrived early, making things crazy around here. Being the most sensitive, Abigail is probably still feeling a little unsettled from all of that, and now her world is going to get jumbled up again with our grandparents and Gee Gee leaving for the farm on Saturday. I'm sure that she'll be fine once they leave and things settle down around here."

"That's what we think, too," I say before we reach the kitchen.

**KITCHEN**

I don't know when Mac finally rid herself of the receiver that I was beginning to think that she had permanently affixed to her ear and found her way to the kitchen, but the moment that I step through the door, I see that she's joined my mother and grandmother at the table for tea.

"Look who I found on the other side of our front door," I proclaim as Mattie walks into the kitchen behind me.

**MATTIE'S POV**

I see the look in their eyes. The three of them ... they all know.

'How can they know? I haven't told anyone yet,' I think as I see Mom already moving away from the others towards me with her arms open and ready to hug me.

"Mattie, you're home," Mom says sweetly and in a way that only a mother can do, making the words sound as though she said, 'It's going to be okay'.

"It's so good to see you," my grandmother says, her proper aristocratic demeanor intact, but somehow I know that she's saying 'I love you' before she takes her turn at embracing me.

I know that my great grandmother is going to hug me, too, but she moves slower and is the last one to reach me.

As Gee Gee steps up to me, she doesn't speak to me. Instead, she talks to Dad.

"Harm, you can go back to whatever you were doing. We'll take it from here," she orders, dismissing him from the room as she hugs me.

"I'm going. I'm going." I hear Dad mumble, leaving no one in doubt that he's leaving the room under protest.

I don't want him to leave me in here with them. They'll start to mother me and make me feel all comforted, secure and loved, and the next thing I know, I'll be spilling my guts and telling them about the mess that my life is in at the moment, and that will ruin Thanksgiving for the whole family.

'Even if they don't know exactly what's happened, they already know that something is wrong. I saw it in their eyes. They won't let me get away with not telling them something,' I think to myself, and I immediately start to search for some tidbit of information to offer that will give me a reprieve from telling them the rest.

Gee Gee eases her hold on me and pulls back enough to look at my face, and I blurt out, "Kyle dumped me."

"I don't know why he'd go and do a fool thing like that. He must be crazy," Gee Gee says as she takes one of my hands in hers with such conviction that I don't doubt the truth of her observation for a second, even though I know that she's never met him and can't know anything about him.

"We aren't going to let some fool boy ruin your Thanksgiving. So, Trish, you get Mattie a few chocolate chip cookies from that last batch that came out of the oven because they're still warm and that's just the way that she likes them. I'll get her some milk, and we'll just let her talk it all out right now so that she'll feel better," Gee Gee says as she steps away from me.

These women are strange. They aren't related by blood, yet they work as a well-oiled team as I'm passed from one set of loving arms to another.

When Mom steps in front of me, she asks, "Do you love him?" Her understanding of how I might be feeling is evident in her eyes.

"I was feeling something that I'd never felt before. I thought that it was love," I reply, trying to sound clinical and adult, but with tears threatening to fall, I don't feel very mature at the moment.

"Oh, Mattie, I'm sorry," Mom says, taking me into her arms where I literally start to cry on her shoulder.

When we end our embrace, Mom pulls back, and Grandma is right there with Kleenex at the ready, and I start to dry my eyes.

I figured that, at some point this weekend, I'd be telling my family the things that are weighing heavily on my mind, but I didn't expect to be caving in just five minutes into my visit.

"There's more," I say with a sniffle. "My life is a total mess."

"Well, we're here to listen, so come on over here. What you're going through may be too much for you to carry around by yourself, but when you tell us about it, your load will get lighter," Grandma says as she ushers me towards the table where the other two women are waiting for me with a bonus - warm homemade chocolate chip cookies and a glass of cold milk.

"I'll bet that at least one of us has experienced what you're going through, which means that, no matter what you have to get off your chest, there's someone in the room who can offer their understanding and impart their sage advice on the matter. As for the first item, this Kyle boy, I think that I'd be safe in saying that all of us have experienced the heartache of being dumped," Gee Gee informs me while I take a seat at the table.

"Absolutely," my mom and grandma say in unison, agreeing with her.

Now sitting, I bend one of the warm cookies in half and take a bite as my grandma starts to tell me about a boy who she was in love with in high school who dumped her three weeks before their prom.

Grandma finishes her story with, "Though I thought at the time that I was never going to find love again, I went on to fall in love with Harm's father and then Frank."

"If you think that's bad, I was dumped once by Harm's grandfather," Gee Gee says.

Surprised by this revelation, all of us in the room focus our eyes on Gee Gee.

"I didn't know that. What happened?" my grandmother chokes out, still in shock.

"We'd been dating for a while and we'd had a fight. It's been too many years ago for me to remember what it was about now, but he told me that he just didn't think that we'd be able to make it and he walked out of my house."

"You obviously got back together, but how?" Mom asks, still stunned that there had ever been a problem between the two of them.

"I'll never forget it. A week after he'd broken it off with me, out of the blue, he called and said that he wanted me to meet him at our local diner, the same one that we'd gone to after the movie on our first date, mind you, because he wanted to see me. Well, I'd been crying my eyes out over that man for an entire week, so I agreed to meet him. I felt that he'd had his say, and my intention was to go and give him a piece of my mind. It didn't go like I'd planned, though, because, when I got there, he stood up with a dozen red roses in his hand and that damned Rabb smile on his face. He apologized. I apologized. Later that day - after some kissing and making up - during a walk along the creek that borders the farm, he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him."

Gee Gee's face lights up as she recalls the day that the love of her life proposed. Even after all these years, you can still see her love for him in her eyes.

"What about you, Mom?" I say before shoving the other half of my second cookie into my mouth.

"I was engaged once. He left me. I was really a mess when it happened, but if we'd been married as planned, I wouldn't be with Harm now. So, though it hurt at the time, it worked out for the best because the happiness that I have in my life with Harm and our six wonderful children more than makes up for the pain that I was in then."

As Mom talked, I got the feeling that she was leaving out more than a few things from her story, but I got her point from what she did say.

"The worst part of it is that I can't believe how stupid love made me," I state flatly.

"Mattie, you aren't stu -" Mom gets out before I cut her off.

"I am! He'd tell me when I could see him, and I'd skip a class, not do my homework or not come home to see my family in order to see him!"

"You may have let love blind you, causing you to make some bad choices, but nothing that you've just said suggests for one second that you're stupid," Grandma says, reaching across the table to pat my hand.

"I can prove that you aren't stupid," Gee Gee declares from her position at the other end of the table from me. "A person can't recover from stupidity, and I didn't hear anything in what you've said that you can't stop or correct. So, you may feel foolish for falling for this boy's line, but you are_not _stupid."

"I don't know if all that's true, Gee Gee. In one class, my grades have fallen so badly that, if I'm not failing, I'm very close to it, and even if I can manage to get myself out of that mess, there's something that I can't fix." I pause to take a breath. "Kevin and I had a big fight. He's never going to speak to me again."

While I spoke, Mom reached over and took my hand, offering her support.

"I've seen the way that Kevin looks at you and I don't think that's the case at all," Grandma says reassuringly.

Gee Gee starts to speak, but Mom intercepts.

"I've got this one," Mom says to Gee Gee before looking at me.

"I can't tell you about the specifics because it relates to work, but I will tell you that, before you met Harm, he and I had had a big fight. I called and left messages for him, but he didn't return any of my calls, didn't respond to any of my messages. We didn't see or speak to each other for nearly six months, but once we were in the same room together, though the air between us stayed chilly for a while longer ... we did make up, and look at us now. So, though I'm not saying that it's going to be easy because neither one of you will be able to take back the things that you said in anger, I think that you can get your relationship back with Kevin if that's what you want ... and you can't be sure that it's over until you try to salvage your friendship."

"I guess," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"I don't want to spoil his Thanksgiving. I'll call him tomorrow," I say, putting off making the call for at least a day because I'm not sure that I'm ready to talk to him or that I'd know what to say.

"You don't have to call him, dear. He'll be here soon," Gee Gee informs me.

I must look like I can see a car coming but can't get out of its way because Mom quickly adds, "You don't have to talk to him if you aren't ready. He's coming here to ride with us to film at the dinner event."

"I wouldn't put off speaking to him for too long. It's just wasting time that you could be spending rebuilding your friendship," Gee Gee says, offering her advice.

"Not to mention that worrying about whether or not you'll work it out will just eat at you and cause more problems for you. No reason to make a bad situation worse," Grandma says, adding her two cents.

"You think about it and do what you think is best," Mom says, squeezing my hand to show her support. "What I think that you should do right now is to go say hello to your brothers and sisters. Ty and Sami will be leaving with us soon, so you may want to start with them first."

"Of course, you should go let all of them know that you're here," Gee Gee says, getting to her feet, presumably to get back to baking goodies for tomorrow.

"Then I'll go say hello and make sure that they're ready to go," I state, wondering if I'm being sent out of the room so that they can talk about me.

**LIVING ROOM**

**TEN MINUTES LATER**

I heard the doorbell a few minutes ago and knew that Kevin had arrived at the house.

When Harm had loudly announced that it was time to go, in order to avoid seeing Kevin, I'd hugged Ty and sent him out to the living room. I'd intended to do the same with Sami, leaving me with Matthew and Abigail, who'd come into Ty's room when she'd heard Sami squeal my name. However, Sami had had a different idea. She'd taken my hand and tugged on my arm until she'd dragged me to the living room.

"Daddy, I told Mattie that she had to come with us, but she says that she wants to stay here even after I told her what Momma said about the reason why we're going is to give military families whose daddies and mommas are away protecting our country a turkey dinner as a way of saying thank you." Then Sami looks up at me. "You aren't thankful that they're letting them protect us instead of being at home?"

I don't know what to say to a four-year-old to explain, but lucky for me, Dad speaks up in my defense.

"I don't think that it's that she isn't thankful. I think that it probably has more to do with the fact that she just got here and wants to spend time with Gee Gee and Grandma before they leave on Saturday."

"If it's because of me..." Kevin begins, causing my head to automatically turn to face the person speaking to me, and the moment I do, our eyes lock on each other's.

I see no anger in his eyes, making me wonder if Mom was right and that Kevin and I can work things out.

"If your dad doesn't mind letting me follow him so that I don't get lost, I can drive myself there so that you can ride with them. While we're there, I'll be working, so I won't be in your way. You won't have to talk to me."

"It isn't you," I get out quickly. "I'd actually like to talk to you about some things, but not while you're working. Maybe we can meet some place … or, if it's okay with my parents, you can come by later this weekend so we can talk."

"I'd like that," Kevin says with a smile.

"Since we're messing up Kevin's holiday because he's doing a job for me, we invited Kevin and his mother here for our Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow," Mom states, which reminds me that my parents are in the room and have heard the whole exchange.

"Great! Then, I'll see you tomorrow," I say to Kevin, excited that we have a date to talk, but, at the same time, already feeling nervous about what to say to him.

"I don't want to get a call from Harriet asking me where her videographer is, so we'd better get going," Dad says to get everyone moving towards the door.

**LIVING ROOM**

**2100**

**HARM'S POV**

I gather from the way that Mac was quietly talking to Mattie over in the corner of the room one minute and then everyone disappeared, leaving Mattie and me alone, means that Mattie has something that she needs to tell me.

"I guess that, since Mom knew when I got here, you know that Kyle and I are over, too," Mattie says softly.

"When you called this morning and said that he wasn't coming to dinner tomorrow, the consensus at the table was that you'd broken up, so, though I couldn't be sure, I agreed with the others that it was a logical reason for why he wouldn't be attending."

There's a distant look in her eyes.

"Is there anything that I should know about him or the breakup?" I ask.

"After a long talk with Grandma and Gee Gee while you were gone today, I'm all talked out about it, but there _is_ something about school that I need to tell you, and then I'd like to get your advice on what I should say to Kevin tomorrow."

"Okay, what's this thing about school?" I ask and I watch as she starts to wring her hands in her lap before opening her mouth to tell me about her failing or near failing grade.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**BEDTIME**

**MAC'S POV**

I checked on the children before getting ready for bed, leaving Harm and Mattie to talk for as long as they need to about the current state of her life.

Comfortable in bed, I'm unable to sleep as I wonder how open and honest that Mattie is being with Harm.

Though I'm happy that Mattie opened up to us this morning, I couldn't help but feel that she told us the symptoms rather than the problem.

Maybe I'm reading too much of my own life experiences into Mattie's situation and overreacting to the things that Trish told me that Mattie said during their conversation today while we were out.

Too distracted by the thoughts running through my head, I toss the magazine that I was trying to read onto the night table as Harm walks into our bedroom.

Having no patience to wait until he brings up their conversation, if he ever would, the moment that he's shut the door, I ask, "How did your talk go with Mattie?"

"Okay, I guess. I'm not pleased that she let a boy distract her so much that she skipped classes and is going to have to really buckle down to pull up her grades, but he's out of her life now, and she seems to understand what she needs to do to get her grades back up."

"Did she tell you why she and Kyle broke up?"

"Not directly, but since she asked for my advice regarding her situation with Kevin, I asked a few questions to get a clearer picture of what had happened between them and, based on the answers that she gave me about their fight, I got the impression that Kyle was controlling and that Kevin's crime was that he'd pointed it out to her when she hadn't been receptive to it. Now that Mattie has ended things with Kyle, she sees that Kevin was at least partly right and was just looking out for her, so she wants to rebuild their friendship."

"She told you that she broke it off with Kyle?" I ask.

He looks puzzled.

"Now that you ask ... no, I don't think that she said it directly. Why?"

"She told us this morning that Kyle had dumped her," I reply suspiciously.

"Look, she didn't lie to me. I just presumed that she broke it off from what she did say. So what's the big deal, Mac?" He sounds accusatory.

"It may be nothing, but I'm worried about her."

"A break up, no matter who did the dumping, is part of life. There's nothing to worry about. She'll be fine, Mac, so relax," he says before kissing me on the forehead and moving towards the bathroom, presumably to get ready for bed.

"Harm, it isn't the fact that she feels heartbroken over a break up that has me concerned. I'm worried about why _she_ didn't break it off with _him_."

He's at the end of the bed and turns to look at me more directly.

"You're worried about who broke up with whom, Mac?"

"No, yes. I mean the fact that they've broken up is good and I don't really care who ended it. However, from what she said to us this morning and what your mother and grandmother told me that Mattie mentioned to them while we were out about Kyle's control issues, then, yes, I think that it does matter who broke it off."

He looks even more confused than he did a minute ago.

"If Kyle was controlling, why didn't Mattie break up with him? She ended her year-long relationship with Paul for pressuring her to go to a party and drink. So, why wouldn't she break up with a boy who she'd been dating for less than a month for being controlling to the point of telling her when she could come home to see her family or if she could be friends with Kevin? I ask him.

"Maybe she didn't realize that he was controlling her until they broke up?"

"Exactly! Before her father's death and you being MIA, I don't think that she'd have given Kyle a second glance, but now, she might be looking for someone to fill the void left by her father, someone who she'd have in her life in case she loses you, too. We need to talk to her. We need to know if she's really doing okay or if she needs some help to deal with her grief so that she isn't susceptible to someone like Kyle."

"Mattie isn't you, Mac! She's fine!" he snaps defensively.

"No, she isn't me, but that doesn't make her immune to things ... and because I am me, I have experience in this area that you don't, so consider that it's possible that I know what I'm talking about in this situation," I respond nearly in tears, his words piercing me as if they were an arrow.

I know that he lashed out in anger, but knowing why doesn't make it hurt any less.

He may not have meant to hurt me, but he did, and I roll over on my side, away from the bathroom door and him to allow the tears to flow freely and silently.

I hope that I'm wrong, but something tells me that this is just a small taste of what's to come if Harm doesn't heed my warning and at least talk to Mattie.

Wounded by Harm's reaction and words, I draw myself up into a ball, hoping to be asleep before Harm comes to bed because I don't want to talk to him anymore tonight.


	20. Chapter 20

**PART SEVEN**

**FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2008**

**KITCHEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME **

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0532**

**GRANDMA RABB'S POV**

I'm surprised to see Harm come into the kitchen with his t-shirt and face all sweaty, given that I usually see him _before_ he does his morning exercise.

"Harm, you were up before the chickens if you've already been out for a run this morning."

"Yeah, I got up early to get my run in before everyone starts to show up for Thanksgiving dinner," he states distractedly like his mind is a hundred miles from here as he moves towards the counter where the coffee maker is located.

"The coffee's started, but it isn't ready yet. I didn't know that anyone was up or I'd have started it sooner," I say apologetically, which causes him to turn around and look at me.

"I'll go shower and come back then," he says, still sounding as if he's disconnected from the here and now.

Harm's slouching, and he never slouches, so not only the tone of his voice, but his defeatist appearance concerns me.

"Harm, you tell me this instant what's wrong with you!"

I hadn't meant for it to come out as an order, but rather a plea for him to unburden his mind of what is obviously a heavy load for him. However, the tone at which I delivered my line certainly sounded more like a parental scolding than a suggestion for him to share his thoughts with me.

I brace myself for some kind of rebuff from him about being a grown man who'll handle his business as he sees fit, but it doesn't happen.

He stops beside me, embraces me and whispers, "Don't worry about me, Grandma."

After hugging me, he releases me and says, "I'm going to go take that shower now."

**MASTER BATHROOM**

**0539**

**HARM'S POV**

I'm standing under the showerhead, wondering if I adjusted the water to a cooler temperature if it would help me to wake up.

I'm exhausted, and the day hasn't even started yet.

I'm not sure if I was restless last night because of what Mac said or how I reacted to what she said, which hurt her feelings, but whatever it was, it resulted in us sleeping in the same bed without touching each other in some way for the first time since we've been married.

I didn't mean to snap at her, but I think that she's wrong about Mattie. She's a good kid. Mattie's too smart to fall for some boy's line. She's ...

I reach out and turn off the water.

What I need is some coffee to wake up.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**MINUTES LATER**

The moment I open the bathroom door, I smell the aroma of coffee that's too strong for it to be making its way to my nose from the kitchen.

I step out into the bedroom to see that Mac is carrying a coffee mug in each hand.

Hoping that the second cup is for me, a sign that she's still speaking to me, I cautiously say, "Morning."

**MAC'S POV**

"Good morning, Harm," I say softly, not sure if I should offer an apology for upsetting him or pretend that last night didn't happen.

I extend my hand to offer him the extra mug of coffee that I'm carrying, and he reaches for it.

His hand lingers near mine for several seconds longer than it needs to in order for him to take possession of the offered mug.

He has that smoky look in his eyes, a cloudiness that seems to blend the green and blue of his eyes together, making his eye color unclear.

"M-a-c," he says, grasping the mug firmly before pulling it to him.

Unsure that I want to hear anything that he says when it starts with my name being drawn out that way, I decide to speak first.

"I don't want to fight with you, Harm. It's Thanksgiving. I wasn't trying to upset you last night. I just thought that it would be better if Mattie had both of her parents keeping an eye on her than just one."

His mouth opens like he's about to say something, but I'm not finished yet.

"I realize that Mattie isn't me and I wasn't suggesting that she'd do even half of the things that I did. I just see changes in her behavior, like not coming home for almost a month that concern me to the point that my mother's intuition tells me that it's _possible _that she's in some kind of distress ... or perhaps it would be better if I called it a "turning point" in her life, and I'm worried that she'll throw her life off track."

He breaks eye contact with me to take the first taste of his coffee before he calmly asks, "Have you finished with what you wanted to say?"

"Yes," I answer, feeling a little relieved that I haven't upset him again this morning.

"Then let me tell you what I started to say a minute ago. I was going to apologize for reacting poorly last night when you voiced your opinion about Mattie. I just think that your concern is misplaced. Mattie's a good kid." He pauses for a fraction of a second. "Did you ever think that, having started her second year in college, her not wanting to come home every weekend is just a sign that she's growing up, becoming independent and living her life in her own way? There's nothing more to it," Harm explains.

"She _is_ a good kid, but that doesn't make her invincible to peer pressure to drink, do drugs, become promiscuous or succumb to some of life's other pitfalls. I wasn't accusing her of anything. I was just trying to point out that she _could_ be headed in the wrong direction and that I'd like for _both _of us to be on the alert so that,_ if _she stumbles, she won't fall too far because one of us will be there to catch her. That's all. I love her and I don't want her to feel like she doesn't have anyone to turn to or that, because we have younger children, we've forgotten about her. I want her to feel that she's our daughter, too, and that this is her home and a safe place for her to come, no matter what."

**HARM'S POV**

Mac's features have softened as she's spoken, showing me that her view is coming from a place of loving concern for_ our _daughter and not based on the fact that she felt that I've been neglecting Mattie's needs as her dad and thus making her susceptible to peer pressure and the dangers of feeling alone and 'lost' in the world.

However, that still doesn't convince me that Mac's right.

"Mac, we have guests coming over to enjoy a Thanksgiving meal, and I don't want to be feuding with you over Mattie and make everyone feel uncomfortable. So, at least for today, can we agree to disagree on the matter?"

"If I can say one last thing, I can agree to disagree about it."

"Go ahead. What's your last word on the subject?"

"You're a good dad, and I love you," she says before giving my lips a peck, confirming that I was correctly interpreting her change in tone and body language. "If Patty wakes up while I'm getting a shower and dressing, will you change her and bring her in here so that I can feed her?"

"Sure, I can do that for you..." I say before she steps to the side, presumably to head to our bathroom. "...and, Mac..." I say, reaching out and catching her before she can step away. "...I love you," I add before administering a proper good morning kiss to her lips and releasing her so that she can go take her shower.

**1230**

The sound of the doorbell means that some of our guests have arrived to celebrate the holiday with us.

"I'll get it," I say loudly as I make my way out of the living room.

Having reached the front door, a quick look through the peephole will reveal whether the first ones to arrive are Keeter and Linda or Kevin and his mother.

"Linda, Keeter, glad you could make it. Come on in," I say while fully opening the door.

"Hello, Harm," Linda says formally as she steps across the threshold.

"Hi, Buddy," Keeter says in his usual jovial manner as he steps in after her. Then he smacks my shoulder and asks, "Where's the little woman?"

"Lucky for you she's in the kitchen with my mom and grandmother, doing her part to prepare our dinner and didn't hear the 'little woman' crack."

"Mac, Keeter and Linda are here," I yell over my shoulder as I start to push the door closed.

Mac had apparently left the kitchen shortly after the doorbell had rung to greet our guests and had made her way to the foyer, making my loud announcement unnecessary.

"Hi, Jack, Linda. I'm so glad that you could make it." Mac says graciously. "Let me take your coats."

"Mac," Keeter says before embracing my wife while Linda sheds her coat.

Releasing Mac, Keeter adds, "You're looking prettier than ever."

"Thank you," Mac says with a smile while reaching for Linda's coat.

"I haven't seen you since before you had the baby and I must say that, if I hadn't seen you pregnant, I'd never believe that you'd had a baby only two months ago. You look amazing!" Linda gushes while Keeter rids himself of his coat.

"Thank you," Mac responds with a slight blush on her cheeks. "Linda, since you haven't met Patty yet, would you like to meet her before dinner?"

"I don't want you to wake her," Linda replies.

"She can be hard to get to sleep sometimes, but once she's out, picking her up won't wake her unless she's ready to wake up," Mac says before taking Jack's coat.

With grace in her movement, Mac hands Linda and Keeter's coats to me, stepping away from Jack at the same time, and Linda automatically follows her.

Keeter's been over two or three times in the last month, and though he hasn't held her as far as I know, he has met Patty, so I'm not sure that he's interested in following the ladies to the nursery. However, with no good reason not to follow the women, he starts to follow Mac and Linda when an "excuse" for not tagging along comes hurtling into the foyer.

Sami's natural curiosity has brought her to see who's arrived for dinner.

"Uncle Jack!" Sami greets excitedly.

"Sami!" Keeter replies happily as he scoops up my ladybug into his arms. "How's one of my favorite girls?"

"I fine," Sami replies, her words muffled by Keeter's shoulder as she hugs his neck tightly.

"Where are your brothers and sisters?" Keeter asks Sami.

"We was all playin' in Mattie's room, but I left them so I could see if it was you."

"Well, then I'd better put you down and let you get back to playing," Keeter replies.

Sami starts to shake her head. "I don't want to play now. I want you to tell me a story."

"Well, why don't we go see if anyone else wants to hear one of my stories?"

"Okay," Sami replies.

The doorbell rings again.

"Sami can be your guide to Mattie's room while I get the door," I tell Keeter.

"It looks like your dad's going to miss my story," Keeter says with a grin.

"I won't be missing anything. I've heard all of your stories at least a dozen times," I say jokingly.

"I might tell it differently this time," he says with a smirk before putting Sami down and telling her, "I'm going to follow you. Lead the way."

With Keeter and Sami on their way to Mattie's room, I turn my attention back to the front door.

Just as it should be, it's Kevin and his mother.

"Hi, Mr. Rabb."

"Hi, Kevin," I respond.

"This is my mom," Kevin states.

"Jean," the petite woman standing next to Kevin says as she extends her hand.

"Harm," I reply as I take her hand. "Nice to meet you, Jean," I add as we shake hands.

With introductions made, I step back and invite our guests inside. "Please come in."

Kevin motions with a sweep of his arm for his mother to enter first.

With both of them inside, I quickly close the door.

"It feels like the wind is picking up out there," I say conversationally.

"Yes, it is. I know that the forecast has changed, and we aren't supposed to get snow until Sunday or Monday, but it sure feels like winter out there now," Jean responds.

"Then let's head to the living room where we've got a fire going," I say, stepping in front of them. "Follow me."

**LIVING ROOM**

I know that Jean's blonde hair isn't her natural color because I could see dark roots as the woman, who must be only a little over five feet tall, walked passed me to the fireplace.

In front of the fire, Jean begins to remove her coat, revealing the straight skirt and clingy top that she's wearing underneath.

The clothing on her small frame and her bleached-blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail gives her a youthful appearance.

If not for the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and the heavily chiseled lines at the sides of her mouth, I wouldn't believe that this woman was old enough to be Kevin's mother.

Mac enters the room with Linda following closely behind her.

"Mac, this is Kevin's mother, Jean. Jean, this is my wife, Sarah," I state.

"Nice to meet you Jean, but I'm not the only Sarah in the house, so, to cut down on the confusion, my friend's call me Mac, and, Jean, this is our friend, Linda. Linda, this is Jean, and have you met her son Kevin? He goes to Tech with Mattie, and they've been friends for a long time, so the two of you might have met before."

"If we have met, I don't recall it. Hi, Kevin, Jean. It's nice to meet you," Linda says politely.

"Harm, why don't you take Jean and Kevin's coats while I see if any of our guests would like something to drink before dinner is served?"

"Mr. Rabb, if Mrs. Rabb doesn't mind, could I speak with you for a few minutes about something?" Kevin asks.

We both look at Mac.

"If you need Mr. Rabb's ear, go ahead. I'll come to the den to inform you when dinner is ready, but make sure that he stops and hangs up those coats."

"I will. Thank you, Mrs. Rabb," Kevin says with a grin before he and I leave the room.

**DEN**

"What's on your mind, Kevin?" I ask as I enter the den with him right behind me.

"I sat down last night to start reviewing the footage from yesterday's dinner that I filmed for Mrs. Roberts, but I didn't get through much of it because it was so hard to watch."

Given that his problem isn't legal, I opt to sit on the couch in the room instead of at my desk, which would have been more appropriate if we were going to discuss a legal issue.

"I could understand if someone else had done the filming and you were just editing it, but you shot the footage yourself, so I don't understand how seeing it on film would be that much different than what you saw when you filmed it," I say, unsure that I can be of any help to him.

"When filming, you're focused on the 'job' part of it, which, for me, was to get some footage of the volunteers setting up and serving meals, and then get as much footage as I could of the families enjoying themselves. Though I heard a few family stories and most of the children wanted to say hello to their fathers or mothers, whichever one was deployed, what they said didn't really register with me. I was focused on getting the 'job' done at the time, but the camera picks up details, the sadness or the joy in their eyes, for instance. I just don't see how feeding them turkey is thanking them enough for what they're doing for our country. Nor does it seem like we're giving back to the servicemen and women who are risking their lives and missing their families. How do we thank them?"

Kevin has become very passionate about the cause as he's spoken, and I find it touching.

"I think that if you ask deployed servicemen or women, most would say that giving to their families, even in small ways such as giving them a good holiday memory while they're deployed, is thanking them."

"I wish that I could do more," Kevin says, his voice weighed down with sadness.

"Perhaps you can," I begin. "I had no reason to ask before now, but do you know if the families' loved ones are in the same unit?"

"There were four different times when meals were served so that each division, unit or whatever they're called could be served their dinner before the next group arrived, Sir. Why?"

"Because, though there's nothing like coming home, the next best thing when you're deployed is getting a letter, card ... _anything_ fromhome. If you could put together a piece for each unit of their families at the dinner, use some of those shots of the children saying hi to mom or dad, I'm sure that either Harriet or Mac could get it to the COs of their respective units so that it could be viewed by the men and women in his or her command."

"I can do that!" he says excitedly.

"Glad that I could help, but if there isn't anything else, we should get back to the living room before my wife thinks that I've left her to see to dinner and entertain our guests all by herself."

"Yeah, my mom didn't want to come because she didn't know anyone, so I'd better get in there before she thinks that I've abandoned her, but if I have other questions about the project, can I ask you?" Kevin asks as we make our way to the door.

"I'd be happy to help in any way I can, but remember that, along with being a spouse to a serviceman, Mac is a retired Marine, and Mrs. Roberts was in the Navy and has done her share of sea duty herself, so you have resources at your disposal other than my one-sided perspective."

"Mrs. Roberts was in the Navy?" Kevin asks, apparently unaware of Harriet's naval service.

"Yes, she was. In fact, she and Bud met while she was stationed on the Seahawk."

"Thanks for the help and the information, Sir. It might come in handy with my project," he says as I step out into the hall behind him.

**LIVING ROOM**

The timing of Kevin's and my exit from the den has us arriving in the living room on Keeter's heels, and a moment before we enter the room, we hear him ask, "What do you have there?"

Stepping in, I see that the occupants of the room have dwindled to Linda, Jean and Patty, so it doesn't take long to decide that Keeter's question must have been directed at his girlfriend because she has my baby girl in her arms.

"Isn't she just the most adorable baby you've ever seen?" Linda gushes.

"We think so, too!" I state proudly.

"Mac let me hold her while she went to the kitchen to check on things," Linda offers in explanation of how she came to have Patty in her arms.

"Since my girl seems content with you, do you mind if I go check to see if there's anything that I should be doing to help get our dinner on the table?" I ask.

"Go ahead. Take your time. Between Jean and myself, we'll manage to entertain Patty until you or Mac get back," Linda replies.

"Don't I get a turn?" Keeter asks, sounding hurt that he wasn't included in the 'fawning over the baby' party.

"Do you want one … a turn, I mean?" Linda asks, sounding surprised that he'd want to hold a baby and a little nervous that Keeter might be getting the idea that he wants to be a father now, too. "I mean, she's so little, Linda adds.

"Tell her that you aren't so little anymore. At your checkup, you'd gained a full pound and had grown almost a full inch," I say, informing my daughter's most recent admirer of her current stats.

Linda and Keeter are staring at each other, filling the room with an uncomfortable silence for a few short moments before he asks, "Do you think that I'll break her?"

Linda seems to be stunned by the question as Keeter waits for an answer.

I don't know about Jean and Kevin, who are also in the room, but I'm feeling as if I'm intruding on what should be a private moment.

"I think I'll go see if I can be of any help in the kitchen," Jean says as a means of escaping the tension that's mounting in the room.

"Then, if it's all right with you, Mr. Rabb, I'm going to go to see if Mattie can use an extra hand at keeping the kids entertained," Kevin says.

With both Kevin and his mother looking to escape, I'm now sure that they're feeling as out of place as I am at the moment.

"It's fine with me, Kevin. I was headed to the kitchen, too, so you're welcome to tag along, Jean," I say, wondering if I should take Patty with me.

Since I don't think that my baby girl is in any danger, I decide not to amplify the tension and leave her with Linda and Keeter while they work out whatever they need to in order for us to enjoy a peaceful Thanksgiving dinner.

"That would be nice. Thank you," Jean says as we begin our retreat from the room.

**DINING TABLE**

**1305**

No sign of the tension of a few minutes ago is evident between Linda and Keeter as he pulls out her chair for her at the dinner table, so I'm thankful that they seemed to have resolved whatever problem was created by her holding or her being resistant to him holding – I'm not sure which one - our baby girl.

Because Thanksgiving was actually yesterday, and today we were going to have guests, we followed our tradition of reviewing the letters that we wrote at Christmas and spoke our thanks for the things that we have or have been able to accomplish in the past year during our family dinner last evening.

However, I feel that the purpose for the holiday is to give thanks, so, with my family, close friend, his girlfriend, Mattie's friend, Kevin, and his mother gathered, I say grace, thanking God for our blessings: a healthy family, good friends and the food that we are about to share before "Amen" brings it to a close and we begin to dig into the offerings on the table that my wife, my mother and my grandmother have been working all morning to prepare.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**BED TIME**

Stripped down to my boxers, I've been in bed waiting for Mac to join me for the last thirty minutes.

Knowing that it shouldn't be taking this long to put the littlest one to bed, I'm considering my options - staying put or getting up and going to the nursery - when the bedroom door starts to open.

"I'm giving up on getting her to sleep for now," Mac says, coming through the bedroom door with our baby girl in her arms. "If you'll hold her for a minute, I'll change so that I'm ready for bed and then I'll walk the floor with her until she's ready to go to sleep."

Sensing a golden opportunity to help to put my wife 'in the mood' and get some time with my baby girl at the same time, I say, "If you'll hold on to her for a few seconds longer, I'll put on my robe and see about getting our little doll to sleep while you relax ... read ... take a bath or however you want to enjoy a little time to yourself," I say, pulling back the covers and getting to my feet.

"Your generosity this evening wouldn't have anything to do with what's going on between Linda and Jack, would it?" Mac asks as I slip an arm into the sleeve of my robe.

"No. Why would you think that?" I ask and almost immediately wonder if she really knows for certain what's going on between my friend and his girl because, though I suspect that it has something to do with Patty, I don't know anything for sure.

"When Linda was helping to clear the table and we were in the kitchen, she asked if I was upset with her for letting Jack hold Patty. I said no, I didn't mind him holding her. Then I told her that her question made me have to ask if I _should_ mind."

"What was her response to that?" I ask as I secure the belt on my robe.

"Looking a little dazed, she shook her head in a negative response and then said, "'I just don't see Jack as the 'fatherly type'. He isn't like Harm. He's too fun-loving and spontaneous. Do you know what I mean?'" Then she didn't give me a chance to answer that question before she put me on the spot by asking if I thought that Jack would make a good father."

As I reach for my baby girl, I ask, "Did you give her an answer?"

"I tried to avoid it, but she just kept at it until I felt that the only way to go was to give her an answer so that she'd drop the subject."

"Would I be correct in thinking that you didn't give him a glowing endorsement?" I ask, pulling Patty to me as Mac releases her hold on our baby.

"I'd say that I gave her honest feedback."

"Which was?" I ask, figuring that, if I have to drag it out of her, then her response probably didn't bode well for my friend.

"I said that, though I agreed that Jack is more carefree or easier going than you are, I didn't find that to be a negative character trait for being a good father. It might mean that she'd have to be the disciplinarian, but that Jack is a sweet and caring man, and that he's a fiercely loyal friend to you, and I think that says a lot about his character and his ability to be a loving father."

"You hear that, baby girl? I think that your Uncle Jack's charm has finally won over your momma," I say, looking down into the brown eyes of the bundle in my arms.

"I've never thought that he was a bad guy. I just didn't see how the two of you could be so close when your personalities are so different. That's all. It made me question whether you were more like him than you were letting on, or if I could really trust you with my heart."

"What you see is what you get," I say, flashing a charming smile as I step away in order to go to the nursery.

"If you can get her to sleep before I keel over from exhaustion, I'd like to see more of you," she says seductively.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," I say happily as I move from the room.

**NURSERY**

"Sarah," I say to my baby girl, who's staring up at me with wide eyes.

The consensus among the rest of the family members may be to call her Patty, but when it's just the two of us, I call her Sarah.

"Daddy needs for you to go to sleep for him," I say softly to her.

"I know that you had a busy day because everyone wanted to hold my beautiful baby girl, but it's bedtime now," I continue while rocking her gently in my arms. "You need your rest. All of your grandparents are leaving tomorrow, so it's going to be another busy day."

Hoping that Mac wants to do more than just 'see' more of me tonight, as her tone implied, I'm standing impatiently, swaying my baby girl in my arms and willing her to go to sleep.

"Do you like music? What if daddy sings you a song? I'll bet that would help you to fall asleep."

Why is it, when you're a father and you're standing in a room talking to yourself because a baby can't carry on a conversation with you, you just don't care?

In fact, it actually seems perfectly sane to me.

"Which song should I sing to you?"

A few short moments pass as I try to think of a song that I know that would also be soothing to a baby.

"I know!" I say cheerfully, though I'm not quite sure that I should be happy because I don't know the whole song.

Hoping that I know enough of it that she'll go to sleep, I begin. "Hush, little Sarah, don't say a word. Daddy's going to buy you a mockingbird, and if that mockingbird won't sing, Daddy's going to buy you a diamond ring ..."

Whether it was the slight rocking while pacing the room, the quiet of the house or the fact that my singing put her to sleep, I accomplish my goal of getting my baby girl to sleep before I run out of the lyrics of the song.

I carefully lay Sarah in her crib and whisper, "Good night, baby girl."

Then I gently rub her tummy saying, "Daddy loves you, Sarah."

Brushing her plump cheek with my forefinger, I add, "Sweet dreams." Then I force myself to leave the nursery, wondering why, if I wanted her to go to sleep quickly so that I could get back to my waiting wife, I'm disappointed that she's already asleep and that it's time for me to leave her.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER**

Mac was in the bathroom when I came back into the room, so I knocked on the door and let her know that Patty was asleep.

She said that she'd be out in a minute, and though I was growing impatient, I must say that the wait was worth it when Mac steps out in a very becoming teddy and a sexy smile.

"You ready to show me what you've got, Sailor?" she purrs as she saunters towards the bed.

"Yes, Ma'am!" I declare as I reach for her hand, prepared to get no sleep at all tonight if that's what it takes for her to know that the one thing that I give thanks for every day is having her ... in my life and as my wife.


	21. Chapter 21

**PART EIGHT **

**SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2008**

**RABB RENTAL HOME  
MANASSAS, VA**

**MORNING**

In the nursery, Matthew and Patty slept peacefully unaware that, for the other members of their immediate and extended family, today was going to be difficult - more so for some than others.

**GRANDMA RABB'S ****POV**

I may be the oldest member of the current occupants of the Rabb home, but I'm up earlier than usual this Saturday morning.

Actually, I'm not sure that I really ever got to sleep. Like a child eager to do something special the next day, I was too excited to sleep because I'm going home today.

I was needed here, and that's something that's made me feel good in a way that I haven't felt in a long time, but this isn't my home, and with Harm back and recovered, Mac well, and the baby here and healthy, it's time for me to go home and let my grandson and his wife take care of their family.

I wonder what I can do or if there's a gift that I could give my grandson and his family that would express my thanks to them for making this old woman feel useful and needed while never making her feel like it was expected or that I was hired help.

I'll have to give that some thought on the drive to the farm.

The farm - I'm going home today!

I begin to hum "Old MacDonald" as I put the last of my things into the bag that I'm taking home with me.

**FRANK'S POV**

I know that we're coming back for Christmas, but my wife doesn't usually pack light, so I'm surprised to see that she's set only two bags to the side for me to load into the car.

"Trish, only these two bags?" I ask my wife.

"Yes, I tried to get everything into one bag, but I couldn't do it. However, I did manage to make do with one bag for each of us.

Happy that it won't take long to load our things into the car, I reach for the handle on one bag.

"Frank, you don't have to do that now. We can each take our own bag to the car when we're ready to leave."

"I'd rather load the car now before the children get up for breakfast. I think that if you and Sarah walk out the door with just your handbags, it'll seem as if we're all going out shopping, which I believe will make it easier on the children than for them to see us toting out our luggage like we're leaving for good," I say as I snatch up both bags, not wanting to discuss the matter anymore. "After I have these two in the car, I'll find out what Sarah is taking with her and put it in the car as well."

The truth is that I wanted to load the car because the trick of imagining that I'm just taking the ladies shopping, something that I've often done since we've been here, allows me to fool myself.

Being part of such an active household has me feeling youthful and alive, and I'm going to miss it. If I show how sad or upset that leaving makes me, then it's going to make our leaving harder on my grandchildren.

**TRISH'S POV**

The reality that today is the day that we're leaving takes hold of me as I watch Frank take our bags from the room.

I have mixed feelings about our trip to Pennsylvania, feelings that won't change whether we leave today, next week, after Christmas or any other future point in time, but staying here in my son's home indefinitely is out of the question.

I'm happy that, after all that Sarah has been doing around here, we can do something nice for her to show our thanks for her help.

Also, though we love our grandchildren, having five of them so young really takes a lot out of people our age, and Frank and I could use some peace and quiet to rest before returning to experience the joyful craziness of Christmas with them.

"We all need this short trip away," I say to an empty room.

My affirmation lacked conviction and doesn't convince even me because I'm worried that this trip may not be good for Frank.

Frank seems more energetic and alive when he's around our grandchildren, so I have to hope that being away from them won't have too negative an impact on his mood or his health.

"We _must_ leave today," I state with much more conviction.

Staying isn't going to make leaving after Christmas any easier for anyone, but by leaving now, we'll be back soon, and if Harm and Mac have found that they need us, then we can make arrangements for one or even all three of us to stay long-term.

However, since they were getting along just fine before, I doubt that the addition of my precious Patty will have any impact on my son and his wife being able to resume taking care of their family.

Frank and I need to make this trip to the farm so that they can settle back into being a family, and we can be just the grandparents, making it easier on us and our grandchildren when we leave after Christmas.

**MATTIE'S POV**

In my room, I'm feeling badly that I don't share my siblings sadness over our grandparents and great grandmother leaving this morning.

I blame my lack of emotion concerning their departure on the fact that I have so many other things on my mind that there's no room to process any new situations or emotions.

I dismiss that theory when it occurs to me that I should be feeling better since I told everyone about Kyle dumping me, my poor grades and my fight with Kevin.

In fact, if I hadn't been feeling better from just getting the news off my chest, one of my bigger worries was cleared up last night after dinner when, still uncertain of what to say to Kevin, I ended up in the kitchen alone with him, no doubt arranged by the Rabb women.

Luckily, Kevin had been giving a lot of thought to what he wanted to say to me, so I had to say very little.

********FLASHBACK TO LAST NIGHT********

"Look, Mattie, I know that you didn't want to hear what I was saying about Kyle and the kind of guy that he is, and that's why you got angry, but I'm your friend. I'm not going to apologize for saying something that you needed to hear. So if you need an apology in order for us to be friends again, then I'm sorry, but I can't do that ... not even for you."

"I never stopped being your friend. I was just mad at you," I replied with a slight smile.

"You need to know that, if you start dating someone like him again, I'll call you on it, but not because I don't want you to be happy like you accused me of this time, but because I care about you, Mattie."

"Thank you," I whispered before kissing Kevin on the cheek.

"Friends again, then?" Kevin choked out, apparently shocked by my gesture.

"Absolutely," I replied.

*******END FLASHBACK*******

I was relieved after Kevin and I had made that first step towards getting our friendship back on track, which had left me feeling marginally better at the time, but now the joy of having him back in my life has faded into the background.

Though legally I'm an adult, my state of mind at the moment makes me feel like a lost child, unsure of what to do or where to go now.

By the time that Sami bursts through my bedroom door to tell me that it's time for breakfast, I haven't come to any conclusions about why I might be feeling like this ... this disconnected from the family that I now call mine, and wondering if I'm ever going to feel like I'm part of it again.

**TYLER'S POV**

The way that my dad explained it, I understand that Gee Gee wants to go home, but I feel a little guilty for keeping her away from her friends for so long.

I love my grandmother, and I'm going to miss her, but she just doesn't like the same things that I do and that makes it hard for me to spend much time with her, but it's different with my grandpa. We like a lot of the same things and we spend a lot of time together.

I can say goodbye to them today without being upset, but that doesn't mean that I want them to go or that I like it.

As soon as their car is out of sight, I'm going to start counting the days until they're back for Christmas.

**ABIGAIL'S POV**

'Gee Gee, Grandma and Grandpa have been here for months now. Why couldn't they just stay with us forever?' I wonder as I lie in bed, knowing that, though I've been awake all night trying to come up with a way to get them to stay, the morning sunlight coming through the curtains in my room means that I'm out of time.

They're leaving today - and soon.

It isn't that I don't like my parents. I do, very much. It's just that they're always busy with Patty!

I hardly see my big sister Mattie anymore.

Whether I want to show off the latest picture that I've drawn or talk about my piano lesson, Grandma always has time to listen to me. She even comes into my room sometimes and listens to me practice on my keyboard.

Gee Gee tells me stories and lets me help in the kitchen.

Grandma and Gee Gee always have time for me.

Who will have time to spend with me now?

**HARM'S POV**

I woke with Mac's naked form in my arms, which led me to start the morning the way that we'd ended last night - by making love.

Lying in bed, enjoying the quiet hours of the early morning, it isn't until Mac's stomach starts to growl when the smell of bacon reaches our room that either of us gives much thought to what's going to happen in just a few hours.

"I know that it's awful, but I'm really going to miss not having to make breakfast," Mac says with a sated grin.

"I hope that I still remember how to cook," I add with a half-hearted chuckle before turning serious and trying to give the situation a positive spin. "That's one good thing about them leaving today. You and I will have time to work out some schedules before I go back to work on Monday." I pause before suggesting, "When it comes to meals, I can take breakfast and dinner, and, if you prepare lunch, that will work during the week, too."

"That's the way we used to do it, isn't it?" Mac questions.

"If I remember correctly, yes," I reply, and then wondering if she wants to change it, I let her know that I'm open to other ideas by stating, "If you'd like to arrange things differently, I'm open to it. We just need a routine that works. I don't want too much of the daily running of the house to fall on your shoulders. I don't want any of our children to feel slighted and I don't want us not to have time for each other," I state adamantly.

"You don't want much, do you?" Mac says with a chuckle.

"Do you think that it's too late to make a day equal to thirty-six-hours?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, I don't think that you can make that one happen," Mac says, pausing before she adds, "I think better on a full stomach, so let's figure out more of our schedule after breakfast."

**LIVING ROOM**

**AFTER BREAKFAST**

**GRANDMA RABB'S ****POV**

My thoughts of going home have served to keep the reality of this moment from my mind.

The babies won't know whether we're here or not as long as their needs are being met, I tell myself, trying to stave off my urge to stay.

It's time for me to say goodbye to my great grandchildren. I can't put off the difficult part of my departure any longer.

With my youngest great grandson freshly washed up after finishing his breakfast and still in his father's arms, keeping me from having to stoop down to pick him up, Matthew seems like the perfect place to begin my farewells.

Matthew's lack of understanding about what's happening makes him impatient, especially when he wants to get down to play, which forces me to keep my hug brief and, after a kiss goodbye on his cheek, I place the wriggling lad down on the floor.

My eyes focus on my oldest great granddaughter next.

While embracing the teenager with still so much weighing on her mind this morning, I whisper into her ear before releasing her, "It's all going to be all right, dear."

Next I cuddle the youngest Rabb for a few moments before passing Patty to Trish.

That leaves the three great grandchildren to whom it will be the hardest to say goodbye.

Sami begins to tear up the moment I motion for the three of them to come closer. I want to address them together, but hug them individually.

I thank Ty, Abigail and Sami for letting me come to stay with them for so long. Then I hug each one and tell them that I love them more than I can ever say or show them.

Only the thought of my home keeps me from crying.

Saying goodbye to my grandson and his wife is easier than with the children. They remind me so much of my sailor and me that I'll bet that they're relieved that we're leaving because, as nice as they were, I wouldn't have wanted my in-laws to move in with us the way that we have with them.

Our departure is long overdue, and if it weren't for my great grandchildren, I wouldn't be returning for the holiday and interrupting my grandson's household again so soon.

**FRANK'S POV**

Since Trish and I never had any children of our own, I learned from being around Matthew that babies grow and change rapidly. I'm sure that, although Patty was premature, she'll be no exception and will have changed by the time we return. Therefore, I want to get a good look at her, so I begin my goodbyes with the youngest Rabb.

With Matthew content out of anyone's arms so that he can toddle about, once I've relinquished Patty to her mother, I reach down to ruffle Matthew's hair and say, "I'll be back to see you soon, Sport."

Though I love my granddaughters, I'm not as close to them as I am to my oldest grandson. So though there's some sadness as I hug Mattie, Abigail and Sami, it's Ty who will be the hardest for me to leave behind this morning.

As I hug Ty, I wonder if the ladies would mind if I drove down on the weekend to check on my grandchildren and play the racing game with my grandson.

After a hug and a kiss on the cheek for my daughter-in-law, I extend my hand to Harm.

Harm reaches for my hand, but tugs gently on it, letting me know that he feels that we're close enough now that a hug seems more appropriate than a handshake.

**TRISH'S POV**

I thought that I'd prepared myself for this moment, but one look around the room at my grandchildren's faces and I wonder if I'll get through the goodbyes without crying.

I pass Patty to Frank, and after taking a moment to retrieve a handkerchief from my purse - just in case - I inhale deeply to calm my emotions as I reach out to hug my oldest grandchild, Mattie.

Though I love my grandson, he and Frank are much closer, making it easier - as in safer from shedding tears - to say goodbye to Ty next.

Sami steps up for a turn to hug grandma before I leave, and she has wet streaks from tears on her face.

Matthew is clutching the fabric of my slacks as if he wants his turn next, though I suspect that the real reason is that he's holding onto me for balance.

I scoop up the toddler and kiss his cheek.

After putting Matthew back down on the floor, I turn my attention to Abigail.

Her eyes are glistening from the moisture of unshed tears, and though she isn't crying, the sadness that I see in her face has me wanting to stay here.

No, I can't think like that. We need to go ... and today.

Knowing that I'm barely keeping my tears from falling and that if I see Abigail shed a tear, I'll be joining her, I quickly pull the sweet little girl into an embrace, hoping that, by avoiding seeing the sadness in her eyes, I won't cry.

As painful as it was, it's done. I've said goodbye to all of my grandchildren.

Now, after I hug my son and my daughter-in-law, I'll have to get out of here before I want to stay so badly that I'll change my mind.

**MATTIE'S POV**

Still uncertain about what's going on with me and wondering if I'm ever going to feel 'right' again, I decided to stay alone with my thoughts a while longer and told Sami that I wasn't hungry so I was skipping breakfast.

I blame myself for feeling disconnected from everyone because I haven't been here much lately. Therefore, I haven't spent enough time with anyone here to make me feel as if they're my family or for this place to feel like my home, but I make the effort to get involved in the goodbyes.

Since they're supposed to return in a couple of weeks, and I hope to be feeling more like myself by then, I don't want them to be upset with me because I didn't come out of my room at all on their last morning here.

Besides, Harm says that one should always do the right thing, and saying goodbye to family when they leave after a visit is the right thing to do.

**ABIGAIL'S POV**

Momma said that letting Gee Gee and my grandparents go without making them feel bad for leaving by crying, even though we're sad enough to cry, is, in a way, giving them our thanks for helping out when daddy was hurt and while she had to stay in the hospital after having Patty.

It isn't right to ask them to stay.

They've hugged everyone.

They've told us that they love us.

They've said that they're going to miss us.

There's nothing left.

They're going to leave now.

"Wait!" I say, approaching Gee Gee and Grandma. "I know that you want to go home to see your friends so you can't stay, but can I go with you?"

"No, dear, not this time. You have school," Grandma says, stooping down to give me one more hug.

"Though we'd love to have you come with us, you have a job to do here, my sweet Abigail. You promised Miss Harriet that you'd play the piano for the wounded soldiers and, in order to do that, you have to stay here to have your lessons and to practice between now and the show," Gee Gee explains.

I nod to show my understanding because I know that, if I say anything else, I'm going to cry...and I don't want them to feel sad like I do.

I feel momma's hand come to rest on my shoulder, and then Grandma says, "One of us will call you when we get there to let you know that we arrived at the farm safely."

Then, they're gone, and I miss them already - a lot!

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**BEDTIME **

**MAC'S POV**

Today has been both physically and emotionally exhausting, so I'm yawning as I walk into our bedroom.

"No problem getting Patty to sleep tonight?" Harm asks as I close the door behind me.

"Not tonight," I reply.

"I think today went pretty well, considering -" Harm comments.

"I don't know about that." He gives me an odd look, though I don't know if it's because I cut him off or if it's in regard to my comment. "As far as getting back into the habit of caring for all of our children by ourselves, I do think that it went pretty well, but I'm not sure that everyone is okay about your grandmother and parents leaving today."

"I know that Sami shed a few tears during the goodbyes, but you saw her a few minutes later. After they were gone and I announced that it was time to run a few errands and get something special from the grocery store to make for dinner, she was all smiles and the first one to say that she wanted to come with me," Harm says, recalling the scene from earlier today.

"I wasn't talking about Sami. Her emotions last until something sidetracks her. That's the advantage of being four," I state frankly.

"If not Sami, I know that Matthew and Patty are too young for it to have even registered that there are fewer adults around. I talked to Ty while he and I were unpacking the groceries today. He misses his grandpa, of course, but he's okay."

"Yes, and when Frank called to say that they'd reached the farm, I was happy that the phone was passed around on both ends until they'd all talked to the children, and I know that speaking to his grandpa cheered up Ty," I say, wondering if he was blind to what I saw this morning.

"As far as Mattie goes, she didn't seem upset at all. In fact, if anything, she seemed indifferent, but she's got a lot on her mind right now, so her reaction didn't really surprise me, but I was happy to see that she made the effort to come out of her room to say goodbye to them," Harm says in a factual manner.

When he says it like that, it doesn't sound like I should be worried about her disinterest at all.

"I didn't see anyone so overcome with emotion that it sent up a red flag to me. However, it broke my heart to hear Abigail ask them if she could go with them with such sadness in her voice, like she was saying goodbye to them forever ... and I wasn't the only one. Did you see the look on my mother's face? I thought that she was going to start bawling like a baby. If Abigail hadn't wanted to go to her lesson today, something that she really enjoys, I'd be worried about her, but not only did she go, she did very well," Harm finishes.

"True, and though Abigail didn't eat lunch, after she spoke to your mother on the phone about her piano lesson, she did seem to perk up, and she ate a little bit of her dinner," I say, agreeing with his observations.

"I don't remember the kids taking this much out of me before," Harm comments as he gets into bed.

"I know what you mean. I don't know if your parents and grandmother were doing that much and I didn't realize it or if we're just out of shape."

"Oh, I'm not out of shape..." Harm says, eyeing me. "...and from where I'm sitting, neither are you," he adds seductively as I crawl into bed.

I know that I should be thankful for a husband who still finds me attractive and makes me feel desirable and beautiful even though I have surgery scars and have given birth twice, but tonight, I'm tired and don't fully appreciate his desire to make love to me.

As I settle onto the mattress, prepared to tell him that I'm flattered but I'm tired before I kiss him good night, I see his jaw tighten in the way that it does when he's stifling a yawn.

"I'm glad that you still find me desirable, but we're both tired, Sailor, so let's get some sleep," I say before my lips press against his.

He kisses me back with more vigor than I'm giving, but not the way that he does when he's raring to go, and when our lips part, he whispers to me as I lay my head on his chest, "Good night, Mac."

**AN:** I hope you enjoyed the 2008 Thanksgiving with the Rabbs. Don't fret, though, I'm already working on the next installment. As I usually try to do, I left clues in this story as to what might be in the next ... or future ... chapters. So, do you think you might now where we're going next?


	22. Chapter 22

ANs: It has certainly been longer than I meant for it to be, but at last I have a story in the series for you. This is a little warm-up piece to get you in the mood for another visit with this Rabb family.

Even though this is short, to give anyone who might need or want to go back and read the previous story if in order to refresh their minds about what had happened last we dropped in on them, I'll post Part 1 of this story on Monday, December 5th.

**CHAPTER FORTY - DEATH DOESN'T TAKE HOLIDAYS**

**PROLOGUE**

With Thanksgiving having been celebrated, and Harm's grandmother and parents at the farm, the Rabb family entered the Christmas holiday season without any extra adults under their roof.

It may have been the way that it had been before Harm had been injured and the norm for other families, but it hadn't been just mom and dad for the Rabb children for several months, so Harm and Mac had expected that, with five children, there were going to be temper tantrums or tears from one or more of them as they adjusted to having only their mom home full-time, and dad home before and after work.

Age appropriate as it may have been, the only tantrum that had been thrown had occurred on the Monday morning after the extended family members had left and Harm was preparing to leave the house with Ty and Abigail, whom he'd be dropping off at school on his way to work.

Sami had been in rare form as she'd stomped her feet and screamed that she wanted to go with her daddy, too.

Harm always made a point to be prepared for the worst, a habit from his aviator days, and he'd anticipated a problem like this and had a plan ready to be implemented.

He'd squatted down to her level and looked her in the eye.

"Sami, I will not take a child anywhere who's throwing a fit." Her yelling stopped. "You'll be staying home today, but if you're good for Momma, when I get home, you can help me make dinner. If you're good tomorrow, I'll check to see if the daycare at work still has room for you. If so, you can go to work with me two or three days a week."

"Will you come and have lunch with me like before?" Sami asked calmly.

"Yes," Harm replied.

"Then I'll be good, Daddy," Sami replied as she gave him a hug.

True to his word, Harm checked and found that both Sami and Matthew still had spots in the Pentagon daycare program, and Sami behaved, so, on Wednesday, she and Matthew left with their dad in the morning, had lunch with him, and enjoyed playing with the other children while he worked until time to come home. They also attended daycare that Friday.

The key to Tyler's adjustment to not having his grandfather there with him was his involvement with a project. Stemming from the charity experience at Thanksgiving, Ty had decided to collect books and toys for the children at a place near and dear to his heart, the Potter house.

When he'd asked his mom about it, Mac's first thought had been the Marine Corps' "Toys for Tots" program. After making a call to that charity, she found that they were willing to add a foster home to their list, but that it was too late to add them to the distribution list for this Christmas.

Not one to give up after one call, Mac then called a few people whom she'd met through Harriet who were with the "Giving Thanks by Giving Back" organization to see if a program existed that could help Ty fulfill his goal.

She was told that, if there was a need, they were willing to support a cause that would supply toys to foster children or homes, but that, with no program currently in place, they wouldn't be able to lend any assistance this year.

After being told that it was too late to get assistance for this Christmas, Ty set out to do two things: one was to gather things for the children at the Potter house for this year and then to get the charity to implement a program that would provide toys to foster children in the DC area next year.

Between time spent at school, on homework and his charity venture, Ty had little time left in his day to miss his grandfather.

Abigail was so focused on her upcoming performance that she didn't spend much time with the family except at the dinner table.

Though Harm and Mac worried that Abigail was putting too much pressure on herself to play perfectly since she was bowing out of activities to practice for the hospital show, her lack of involvement with the family didn't register as being a sign of any problem. However, it did have her parents looking forward to the 20th when she'd give her performance so that she'd participate in things with the family again.

Mac knew that her in-laws hadn't purposely taken over the running of her household, but that didn't change the fact that she hadn't felt that it was her home in several months, and the moment that her in-laws had left, she'd felt like she was once again in control of her life and her family, and it had felt good.

It was also a lot of work, and Mac was exhausted by the end of day, but it was a good, satisfying kind of tired, and she felt that once Patty was a little older and started to sleep through the night, her fatigue would go away.

Harm had been driving Ty and Abigail to school on most mornings while his parents had been here, so the addition of taking Sami and Matthew to daycare two days that first week didn't impact his schedule much since he didn't have to make another stop along the way, just take a little detour before going to his office once they'd arrived at the Pentagon.

Returning to preparing meals, Harm found that, after having the long break from cooking, being back in the kitchen and practicing his culinary arts for his family had its own rewards.

Breakfast was too hurried in both the making and consumption of it in order for everyone to be on their way on time for it to be relaxing. However, dinner preparation served to help Harm unwind after working all day, and was even fun when one or more of his children came in to help him.

With the first workweek behind them, Harm and Mac were tired but happy that it looked like they were going to have an uneventful December, aside from the normal activities associated with getting ready for Christmas...but that was all about to change.

This holiday season, the Rabbs were going to be reminded that death doesn't take holidays.


	23. Chapter 23

**PART ONE **

**SATURDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2008**

**HOME OF MAJOR JAMES AVERY, USMC**

**ALEXANDRIA, VA **

**0630**

"Mommy, Sissy is crying," the Avery's four-year old daughter pled while frantically tugging on her mother's pajamas, trying to wake her.

Slowly, her mother came around. "I hear her. ... I'll get her," she mumbled sleepily, trying to free herself from the covers that had been twisted around her body as she'd tossed and turned the night before, which had prompted her to take a sleeping pill and was the reason why she wasn't fully functional this morning.

She knew that, with a six-year-old, a four-year-old and a four-month-old in the house, taking a pill designed to keep you asleep for eight hours wasn't necessarily a good idea, but with one child being home from school with the flu, the middle child with an ear infection and a baby cutting her first tooth, plus all that getting ready for Christmas entails, which was now less than three weeks away, she just wanted - no, _needed_ a good night's sleep so that she could keep up with caring for her three children while her husband was deployed to Iraq.

She stumbled as she made her way to the nursery.

She flicked on the light and moved towards her baby's crib where she was jolted fully awake by the heat radiating off her baby as she lifted the child from her crib.

Something was terribly wrong for her to have such a high fever.

Ordering the four-year-old to wake her older brother and put on their coats because they had to take the baby to see the doctor, Mrs. Avery was feeling a renewed sense of resentment towards her husband, who always seemed to be off "doing his duty" when something went wrong at home.

Quickly abandoning the thoughts about her husband not being there - she could hate him later - she focused on getting her three children into the car to take her baby to the hospital.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1030**

**MAC'S POV**

I need to take Abigail shopping to get her a new dress for her performance at Walter Reed. However, two and a half months after the birth of my second child, shopping for clothes no longer has the same appeal to me as it once did.

Since Sami, Matthew and Tyler are with Harm who's picking up his uniforms and doing the grocery shopping for the week, Abigail is practicing before her piano lesson this afternoon and Patty is napping, it's the perfect time for me to try on some of the dresses in my closet to see if I have anything that will look decent enough on me to wear to the Pentagon Christmas Ball.

Having tried on two cocktail-length dresses, I chose a gown as attempt number three, and I'm standing in front of the mirror frowning at all the imperfections of my post-childbirth body that I see, when I hear a knock on the door.

"Come in," I call out absent-mindedly, distracted by my reflection in the mirror.

I hear the door open and then ...

"Wow! You look great," Mattie says as she enters the room. "I know that my birthday was this week, but don't you think that you're getting ready way too early and that you'll be more than a little overdressed for where I picked for dinner tonight if you wear that dress?" Mattie asks teasingly.

Since she was so distressed during the Thanksgiving holiday a week ago, I'm so happy that her spirits have risen enough that she's in the mood to tease me that it makes me smile widely at her.

"You can relax. It's your birthday so it's your pick. We aren't dragging you anywhere to dinner that you'd have to wear a dress," I tease back before explaining, "While I had a few minutes, I was trying on some dresses to see if I have to go shopping to buy myself something for the Pentagon Christmas Ball."

She must see that I've got my choices laid out on the bed because next she says, "What about the red dress? You know, red for Christmas?"

"I've already tried it on. I don't like the way if fits me now," I say about the dress that I wore to McMurphy's the night that Harm and I became engaged.

"Have you already tried on all of these dresses?" Mattie questions as she looks at the eight or so dresses that I have laying on the bed.

"No, just the red and mint-green cocktail-length ones...and, of course, the gown I have on."

"Well, you look great in the one that you have on, so wear it."

Turning to look at myself from the side, I state, "It fits the best so far, but I don't know. It's at least a maybe...but I've got a few more to try on before I choose one or give up and go shopping for something new."

"What's Harm wearing?" Mattie asks.

"He doesn't have a choice. He's been instructed to wear his mess dress uniform." I sigh because, if I were still a Marine, I'd be wearing my formal uniform and I wouldn't have to put myself through this.

"Is that the white one with the funny-cut jacket and cummerbund?" Mattie asks to confirm.

"That's the one."

"That doesn't help. White goes with everything. So you can't rule out anything based on color that would cause the two of you to clash when you're standing close together."

She's moved closer to the bed as she's spoken and, standing next to the bed and looking at the dresses, Mattie asks, "What about this one? The tags are still on it so you've never worn it. Try it on next."

"I've never worn the cream-colored one either. They're two of three that I bought in London a few years ago because, when I went shopping, I couldn't decide on which one I wanted to wear to an Embassy Ball."

"Embassy, Pentagon ... sounds close enough for one of them to work, and I vote for this dark blue one," she says, offering her input while pointing at the dress in question. "With the cream-colored one, if you're standing next to Harm, it might look yellow or it might look like a dirty white compared to Harm's white jacket."

The sound of Patty waking comes through the baby monitor on my night table.

"I'll go get her so that you'll have time to try on my pick," Mattie volunteers.

"Thanks. I'll change while you go get Patty. Bring her in here so that you can give me your opinion of how the dress looks on me."

"Okay ... be right back," she says, already moving towards the door.

'She might be right,' I think as I shrug out of the current dress. 'Not only about the color, but, if I remember correctly, one of the reasons why I liked the blue one when I bought it is that the cut is good for hiding that monthly bloating issue, which will make it also good for camouflaging my post-baby tummy.'

**MINUTES LATER**

"That's the dress!" Mattie exclaims the moment that she steps into the bedroom, cradling my precious baby girl in her arms.

"I think so, too," I say, glancing back into the mirror.

After a brief pause to take another look at the way this dress fits me, I say, "If you'll give me a minute, I'll change to feed her."

"If you want to pull the rest of your outfit together, for instance look for shoes to go with it, I'll feed her for you if there are any bottles in the fridge."

Time with my baby is important to me, but Mattie has been here so infrequently of late that I don't feel like I should deprive her of time with Patty, especially when she's offering to help.

"I forgot about this silver trim under the bust, so I think that I'm going to go with my silver heels, but there are bottles. You know where to find them, so if you don't mind, you may feed her while I make sure that the shoes look okay with the dress, and then I'll come into the living room and sit with you or take over if she's being stubborn and doesn't want to take the bottle."

"We'll meet you in the living room then," Mattie says with a big smile as she starts to retreat from the room with Patty securely in her arms.

**LIVING ROOM**

**1145**

**HARM'S POV **

"We're back," I announce as I enter the living room from the direction of the kitchen.

"Mattie and I have been talking, and I haven't started lunch yet," Mac says remorsefully.

"That's okay. What does the birthday girl want for lunch?" I ask as I reach the area where Mac and Mattie are sitting.

"Pizza," Mattie answers without hesitation as she stands to hug me hello.

"Don't you get enough of that when you aren't home?" I ask, not really surprised, but discouraged that she chooses to limit her diet to a handful of items.

"No such thing as _too _much pizza," she jokingly replies.

"Then, Mac, do you want to place an order while I go supervise unpacking the groceries?"

"Sure, making a phone call is the kind of cooking that I do well," Mac says with a laugh.

Both Mac and Mattie seem to be in a good mood, so they must have had a pleasant morning.

I wonder what they talked about.

**ROBERTS' RESIDENCE**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1255**

**MATTIE'S POV**

The door opens, and Mrs. Roberts stands there looking stunned.

"Mattie!" she exclaims excitedly after a moment of awkwardness.

"Am I too early?" I ask, unsure why she looks so shocked to see me. I've brought Abigail to her lesson before.

"No. Please, come in," Harriet says in her usual gracious way as she pulls the door open fully.

Still feeling a bit uncomfortable by my reception, before I step in, I offer, "I volunteered to bring Abigail, but I'm sure that Mac could be here in a few minutes if I call her."

"Not necessary, and if I didn't make you feel welcome, I apologize. I just wasn't expecting you, and it threw me off. Now, please come in." She pauses for a heartbeat and then quickly adds, "Hello, Abigail."

"Hello, Aunt Harriet," Abigail replies politely back to her.

"Are you going to able to attend the show to hear Abigail play?" Mrs. Roberts questions.

"My last day of school before the break for Christmas is the day before the show, so I haven't decided if I'll drive over after I get out of my final on Friday or drive over on Saturday morning, but I'll be there."

"Then, since you're here, will you help me with the project that I was going to draft your mom into helping with when she came today?"

"If there's something that I can do while Abigail has her lesson, I'd be happy to lend a hand," I reply, willing to help, but not sure that I share a skill in common with Mac that would be useful to her.

Looking down at Abigail, Mrs. Roberts asks, "Abigail, do you mind if I have Mattie help me while you have your lesson?"

"No, Ma'am. I'd much rather have my family hear me at the show than listen to me practice," Abigail replies.

"Thank you," she says appreciatively to Abigail before returning her eyes to me. "Then why don't we walk Abigail into Mrs. Jonas, and then I'll take you to the kitchen where you can give me a hand?"

**KITCHEN**

**MINUTES LATER**

I'm stuffing items into bags and wondering why before I decide that there's one sure fire way to find out - ask.

"What are these gift bags for, Mrs. Roberts?" It doesn't seem right for me to call her Aunt Harriet when I'm old enough to know that she isn't my aunt.

"They're give-away bags for fundraisers. Thank goodness everyone is charitable during the holiday season, or I'd never have been able to do them," she says in answer to my question, and then she changes gears. "Mrs. Roberts seems so formal when we might be seeing a lot more of each other."

The look on my face must convey my confusion because she continues with an explanation.

"I'm hoping to generate enough money next Saturday not only to fund a few programs, but to be able to afford to hire your boyfriend to shoot a few more things. With the two of you soon on break from school and having been young once myself, I assumed that, if he takes the job, in order to spend as much time as possible with you, he'd want to bring you with him to some of the events, which is fine with me, by the way, so I'd see a lot more of you because of it."

"He isn't my boyfriend. He's my friend, which is how I know that what you're doing has become very important to him and that he'll be thrilled to shoot more things for you whether you can afford to pay him or not. In fact, he's been so worried about the current piece being perfect and getting it to you before the deadline that he didn't follow his usual weekend schedule."

This time, I'm the one who's receiving the confused expression.

"He doesn't have classes on Friday this semester, so he usually heads home on Friday mornings, but he stayed in Blacksburg to finish the editing," I explain before asking, "Has he called to say when he's bringing the DVD to you?"

"He called yesterday and said that he'd have it to me this weekend so that I could get a look at the final cut before it's seen publicly. Though, from the snippets that he's shown me along the way and the fact that I loved the piece that he did on your family, I'm sure that it'll be wonderful," Harriet replies.

"I was just wondering if he was going to drop it off today so that I'd know if he was going to be at my birthday dinner tonight."

"I'm sure that he'll do his best to make it to your dinner," Harriet says with the same kind of look on her face that Gee Gee and Mac have when they talk to me about Kevin.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**1645**

**HARM'S POV**

I'm in front of the dresser, using the mirror to check to make sure that my tie is laying properly when Mac comes out of the bathroom.

"I'm glad that Kevin called to say that he's on his way and would meet us at the restaurant. I'm also happy that he's running late because I can't seem to get myself together this evening," Mac says as she walks by me.

"I don't think that it's so much that you couldn't get yourself ready, but that you fussed over Abigail and Sami's hair and then you wanted to dress Patty. You just have more to do than anyone else," I comment.

"I know that Mattie was hoping that he'd come," Mac states, apparently ignoring my remark as she slips on her shoes.

"Was Kevin the only subject that you covered this morning?" I question.

"No, we talked about other things," Mac responds, making me wonder if she's being intentionally vague.

"Did she happen to mention anything about school or her grades? I hate to bring it up and spoil her weekend home for her birthday, but with finals so close, I want to know if she thinks that she's going to be able to pull herself out of the hole that she put herself in over that boy."

"She did. She says that, after we talked last weekend, she wanted to come home - "

"Translation: 'I came home to get my birthday money and to keep you off my case," I say, cutting off Mac.

"I'm sure that both of those things had something to do with her coming, too..." Mac says before continuing to give me the information that I'd asked for. "... but she said that she'll need to spend time this weekend doing some back assignments that her professor agreed to take late, and if she turns in the completed missing assignments and gets a decent grade on the final, she'll at least pass the class."

"She's smarter than just a "passing" student," I comment, not hiding my disappointment in front of Mac.

"I know she is, but she made some poor choices this semester, and she's learned that her choices come with consequences. If it doesn't happen again, I'd have to say that the life lesson may be worth letting her off the hook, especially since she's putting forth the effort to correct the situation."

"You're probably right. She is working to make it up," I acknowledge as I slip an arm into a sleeve of my sports coat.

"If it makes you feel any better, she's aware that, in order to get a better grade, she needs high marks on her late assignments and to score well or ace her final," Mac offers.

"Did you two discuss anything else that I may have a need to know?" I ask, putting my other arm into its sleeve.

"I don't think so ... I know that, once she heard my schedule for the time between now and Christmas, she expressed her concern for my sanity," Mac says with a chuckle.

"Well, you are a busy bee this month between charity events, the Pentagon Ball and Christmas," I comment.

"I am now, but I'll be getting help soon. Your grandmother and parents will be back in ten days." After a brief pause, perhaps to consider her question one last time before asking, she speaks, "Do you want to call and have them come down a few days sooner so that they can help you with the children next week while I attend the fundraisers?"

"The kids and I will be fine on our own..." I offer her a cheeky grin. "...and I'll bet that we'll have a better time than you will at your stuffy old fundraisers," I answer. "In fact, I'm willing to bet that the real reason why you're trying to get me to call them is so that I'd be free to go with you, and you wouldn't have to suffer through it alone," I tease.

She smiles, but before she can respond, there's a knock on our bedroom door, ending my attempt to get a good round of bantering in before going to dinner.

"Saved my the bell," I add before I open the door to find that it's Tyler letting us know that everyone else is ready and in the living room waiting on us.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2130**

**MAC'S POV**

As my lips leave his, his lack of enthusiasm for moving in the direction that my kiss was suggesting confirms what I've been thinking most of the evening. He has something weighing on his mind.

"Okay, Harm, out with it! What or who has your attention diverted tonight?" I ask, looking up into his eyes, trying not to sound hurt at his apparent disinterest in me, especially given that the last time that we made love was the morning that his parents left - a week ago.

I see the dawning of my meaning come over his features, and his eyes begin to sparkle.

"Oh, you have my attention," he says in a sexy tone and with a waggle of his eyebrows before he pulls me closer to him.

"Now, maybe, but where were you a minute ago?" I ask, not willing to let go of the idea that something is bothering him.

"I was with you. I just need for you to put my mind at ease about something before we get carried away," Harm states.

"I know that it's been a week, but I'm fine. I've just been tired from taking care of our children all day." My statement comes out defensively.

"It isn't that, and I know that you've been working hard. What I need reassurance about is Mattie."

"What about her? She hasn't said anything to me. Has she said something to you ? Is there something that we need to talk about?" I ask with concern.

"She hasn't said anything, but don't you think that she acted oddly today?" Harm asks.

"I don't know about odd. She was certainly very helpful today," I answer.

"That's what I mean. First she doesn't come home for weeks, and then last weekend she spent most of her time here in her room, and when she was with us, such as at mealtime, she seemed to be distant, but today she was being _too _helpful. For example, after we ate lunch ...when was the last time that she dismissed us from the table saying that she'd clean up and do the dishes?"

"Now that you mention it, I can't remember her ever _volunteering_ to do the dishes," I reply, mulling over his suggestion that there might be an underlying cause for her helpfulness.

"She was being so helpful and we were having such a nice visit that I didn't give it too much thought, but you could be right. She could be hiding something," I say as I begin to analyze what her motivation might be. "Of course, it could be that since it's been a few weeks since that boy broke her heart and she told us about her poor performance in school that she's feeling better and helping out this weekend is her way of showing her appreciation for our support."

"Maybe, and I'm trying not to be cynical, but I have this feeling that she's trying to get us in a good mood before she drops bad news on us and leaves for Blacksburg tomorrow," Harm states flatly.

"Do you have any idea what she might be wanting to tell us?" I ask, because the first few things that come to my mind, I don't want to say out loud to him.

"Who knows? It could be about anything ... school, a new boyfriend...or maybe an old one. Maybe she wants to tell us that she's back with that Kyle kid, which she knows that we aren't going to be happy to hear." He pauses for a brief moment and then adds as he exhales heavily, "Then, there's the biggie. What if she's pregnant?"

He's thought of the ones that I'd thought of all on his own.

"I don't think that we ought to get ourselves all worked up over something that may be nothing. We should stay positive and think that she's feeling better about her life and is just trying to express her gratitude for our support after her news that she wasn't doing as well in school as we'd been led to believe prior to Thanksgiving," I state.

"Wait a minute. Aren't you the one who suggested that we keep our eye on her? 'Be prepared to catch her if she falls,' I believe is what you said," he says, sounding a little annoyed by his belief that I'm backpeddling on the subject of Mattie.

"I did, and I still think that, but I also think that we have to be careful not to overreact. Being helpful alone isn't a reason to cross-examine her. I haven't seen her on her phone or computer much, which would suggest that she isn't trying to keep in touch with a boyfriend ... a new one ... or an old one who we know to have control issues."

"Let me get this straight. We need to watch her, but not watch her too closely."

Now he sounds confused.

"That's right. You don't eject just because you see an instrument go a little haywire in the cockpit. You check the other gauges and evaluate the situation. In this case, you've received a signal from one gauge, but nothing else on the instrument panel shows that there's anything to worry about, meaning that, for now you need to cruise along while continuing to observe and evaluate until you get another sign of trouble or your instincts tell you that it's time to take corrective action. An unnecessary correction could cause us to crash and burn our relationship with her."

He has a big grin on his face.

"What?" I ask, curious to know why he's looking at me like that.

"I never thought that I'd hear you use an aviation metaphor," he says with a full fighter-jock smile on his face.

"Neither did I, but then I didn't know that I'd ever be married to you," I reply with a sly grin.

"Well then, I believe that, when you came in from putting Patty to bed, you were suggesting that you'd like to see my skills with the stick in the cockpit," he says seductively before his lips descend on mine for a heated kiss.


	24. Chapter 24

**PART TWO **

**SATURDAY, DECEMBER 13, 2008**

**KITCHEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**AFTER BREAKFAST**

**MAC'S POV**

Monday through Saturday, Harm makes breakfast and I see to it that the dishes are done. Usually while I'm loading the dishwasher, my mind is on what my plans are for the day. However, this morning I'm distracted from my simple chore because I find myself focusing on trying to overhear what's going on in the other room where Harm has gathered Tyler, Abigail and Sami.

I don't know if his 'meeting' with them is to inform them of the plans for the day, to review the ground rules or to rally their support in hopes that, once I leave the house and he has officially taken over the care of our five youngest children, he has a disaster-free day.

Though I'm slightly worried - maybe nervous or apprehensive would be more accurate - that he doesn't completely grasp how much work it is to look after all of them, I know that he's a wonderful father and that, even if the day doesn't run smoothly, my children couldn't be in better hands.

Besides, he isn't going to be without _any_ help. Mattie will be here soon, I remind myself as my attempts to listen in are brought to a halt when the phone rings.

"I've got it," I yell, hoping that Harm hears me since I haven't been able to hear anything that he's said from the other room.

I lift the cordless handset from its cradle.

**MOMENTS LATER**

**HARM'S POV **

Mac has just hung up the phone when I enter the kitchen.

"Was that call from anyone important?" I ask.

"Yes. It was Mattie," she replies, moving towards the open dishwasher.

"Why was she calling when she should be here soon?" I ask curiously and perhaps a little nervously since my recently-made itinerary included having Mattie around to assist me.

As Mac puts the last few things into the dishwasher, she answers my question.

"To apologize for being late. She overslept. She was calling from the car while it warmed up and said that she'd be leaving there as soon as we hung up."

There's a moment of silence as I think about how this news could impact my plans for the day.

I'm pulled from my reverie by the sound of the dishwasher door closing and Mac's voice asking me, "You aren't worried about having all five children without help, are you?"

I can tell from the 'I'm Marine tough' challenging smirk on her face that she's trying to get me to say that I can't handle watching our children by myself.

"How quickly you forget, Marine." I get a smile from her for that remark as I continue, "This won't be the first time that I've had them all under my watch at the same time."

"Before you say more, _Navy_, let me point out that this will be the first time that you've had all _five_ of them. With your parents here, you haven't watched the children by yourself since Patty arrived," Mac says before she brushes her lips sweetly over mine. Then patting me on my six, she leaves the kitchen, laughing as she goes.

I snort at the idea that one more child, especially when it's my little doll, Sarah, could cause me any problems today.

**CHARITY EVENT**

**1002**

**MAC'S POV**

I enter the event hall and start to look around, hoping to spot Harriet quickly so that I can let her know that I'm here.

The room is decorated in lively tones of red, green and gold for the holiday, and sets the tone for the event, which has been named "The Festival of Trees".

Among the coups that Harriet was able to pull off, she got various local businesses and other organizations to donate decorated trees complete with stands and ready for someone's living or family room. She got the idea from the wife of an Army colonel, one of the committee members of her division, who said that it was one of the ways that an organization in her hometown back in Kansas raised money at this time of year.

Though Harriet wondered if some of those invited, such as Senators and Congressmen, would bid on trees since most had their homes professionally decorated, she'd encouraged them to bid and have it delivered to an enlisted serviceperson's home for the holidays, gently reminding them that it would give them 'good press' in these tough political times.

To further the theme of the auction, there are approximately twenty-five items up for bid that are tied to the Christmas theme by being gift related or an indulgence of some kind. Those items range from a nice box of hand-rolled cigars to having Varese Chestnut be a guest and sing at your New Year's Eve event.

I scan the room and finally spot my friend speaking to another woman.

After only a moment's observation, I'm able to see that Harriet is speaking with this woman in a very animated fashion, suggesting that something is wrong.

Hoping that I'm not the cause of her distress, given that I'm two minutes late to meet her, I hasten my pace to reach the two ladies who are engaged in conversation.

"Harriet, I'm sorry that I'm a little late," I say apologetically as I reach them.

"It's okay. You're here," Harriet states, sounding emotionally drained.

Since her tone isn't a normal one for my dear friend, it causes me to go into a defensive Marine posture, prepared to help her do battle.

"Is there a problem with today's auction?" I ask in order to gather my first piece of Intel on the 'enemy', be it a person or a situation.

"No, everything to do with the auction is fine, and the little catering problem that we had earlier has been resolved, so I'm confidant that we're ready for guests to arrive and the bidding to begin."

"I didn't get to see all the trees because I was looking for you, but the ones that I saw are beautiful, and when Harm arrives later with the children, we're planning to help out a worthy cause and find our Christmas tree here this year."

My comment gets a smile from Harriet.

"Thanks for your support. Bud, my kids and my parents are coming later to bid on one as well, so I'm sure that today's auction will generate some money."

"Then I don't understand. Why do you sound so... " I begin, but can't think of the right word.

"Depressed?" Harriet offers. "It isn't this event that has me down."

"I'm afraid that it's my fault," the woman with graying hair with whom Harriet was speaking when I arrived states. "I'm Cindy Delvin."

"I'm Sarah Rabb..." I never know what to say after that these days. Do I acknowledge my military status, especially given that the purpose at the core of this benefit is to support military families? Do I mention the fact that I'm a lawyer or just state that I'm Harriet's friend?

My momentary pause has allowed Harriet to intercede without cutting me off.

"Yes, and as the former Colonel MacKenzie, JAG officer, she may be the answer to the problem that we were just discussing."

Harriet's smile is back.

"If you're a _former_ JAG officer, are you still qualified to give legal advice?" Ms. Delvin asks me.

"Yes, because, though I've retired from military service, I'm still licensed to practice and I'm a member of the bar in Virginia and Maryland."

"Then maybe you _can_ help. Have you seen the report on the news about the Marine's wife who was arrested and charged with child neglect and endangerment of her four-month-old baby?" Ms. Delvin asks.

"I don't recall hearing a story like that, but then I don't get a chance to watch much TV," I reply.

"It doesn't matter if you saw it or not. I asked only because I thought if you had, you'd already have some information about the case," Cindy states so abruptly that it borders on rudely.

Looking at Cindy directly, I ask, "Can at least one of you tell me a little about her situation before our focus needs to be on today's event?"

Cindy begins.

"I'd seen the news coverage, so when the woman walked into our charity office asking if we provided legal services for military dependents, I knew who she was and almost lost my lunch at the thought that this child abuser wanted our help. I managed to maintain my professionalism and explain that we didn't offer any legal services. However, I could supply her with information about legal aid and JAG services. I was gathering the information for her when I heard her crying."

Seamlessly, Harriet takes over the story.

"That's when I came into the office from some meeting or other. With planning this event and the holiday bustle in general, I hadn't seen the news about her case and had no idea who this sobbing woman was, but I could see how upset she was and knew that I didn't want her leaving our office and driving in her state of mind. So I asked her to come into my private office, have some coffee and talk to me."

They switch again, so now Cindy is speaking.

"I brought in some coffee, and Harriet asked me to stay. By the time the woman had finished her story ... let's just say that I no longer believe everything that I hear on TV. Harriet and I talked about it after she left. We were both convinced that the woman wasn't guilty, but we don't have funds or a way to support her legal defense, so she left with our best wishes and a few phone numbers of agencies that would also probably not be able to help her for some reason or another."

Harriet takes over again.

"Since helping military families is what our division is supposed to be about, I contacted the woman the next day to see if she'd received any help. She apologized for giving me the impression that she was without any counsel and explained that she'd been seeking our help because the public defender assigned to her seems inexperienced, or perhaps he just believes that she's guilty. Either way, she thinks that she's going to lose her case, go to jail and, worst of all, lose her children."

"You said that she was charged with child neglect and endangerment, but you've spoke to her, and you don't believe that she's guilty of the charges?" I ask to get clarity.

"Of being overwhelmed, maybe, but certainly nothing criminal," Harriet replies.

"When you walked up, I was asking Harriet if her husband might be able to help with the woman's case," Cindy informs me.

Knowing about Harriet's promise to Bud, I know that Harriet doesn't want to ask him.

"Since I'm sure that he's very busy with the cases that he's assigned, there's no need to bother Bud. Knowing how Harriet feels about children, if she believes that this woman is innocent, I'm willing to review the case to see what I can do," I offer, not only to aid the woman, but to help my friend keep her promise to her husband.

"Thank you," Harriet says with a sigh.

"No reason to thank me. I haven't done anything yet. I need for you to tell me more about her case and what it is about her that makes you feel that she's innocent. However, I don't think that we should take up any more time with this right now, but we'll have to find time to talk about it soon."

"You and Harm are coming to dinner tomorrow. Do you think that you could come over to discuss it before dinner since, once the Turners arrive, we'll all be so busy catching up that we won't have time to talk?"

Harriet has managed to suggest a time and remind me of our dinner plans in one fell swoop without revealing to Cindy that one of her guests at dinner, Mrs. Turner, is also known as Varese Chestnut.

"If I come over an hour early, would it interfere with your meal preparations?" I ask.

"Your arrival can't be too early for me. My mother will be there, and you've always had a way with her," Harriet jokes, lightening what has been a heavy mood in the room.

"With that settled, should we take one last look around the room before people start to arrive?" Cindy asks.

"Of course, allow me to show you the layout and get you a program," Harriet says as she steps forward, waving for us to tag along.

**LIVING ROOM **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**1045**

**HARM'S POV**

The initial panic that I'd felt when I'd heard that Mattie wasn't going to be here to help this morning was forgotten when, after Mac left, I found that two of my children had their own ideas about what they wanted to do, and entertaining Dad wasn't one of them.

With the charity show just a week away, Abigail wanted to spend part of the morning at her keyboard to practice before she goes to her piano lesson, which hasn't been much of a lesson for the last several weeks, but more rehearsal time for her performance.

Ty is currently interested in all things Harry Potter and wanted to spend some time reading the current book before we leave to go pick out a Christmas tree, which will take place after the three youngest have their afternoon nap.

Sami's activity of choice is to have Dad be a guest at her tea party.

Not only because Daddy is too big for her table and chair set - it seems that Momma can sit in one of those little chairs - but because Matthew wasn't napping, I suggested that we have the tea party in the living room where his playpen is set up.

Sami spent the better part of ten minutes bringing her tea set into the living room and arranging it on the coffee table, saying that it had to be just right before you could have guests for tea.

Now that's a comment that I can hear my mother saying rather than Mac.

With Patty napping, Matthew in his playpen with a few of his favorite toys and the table finally set to Sami's satisfaction, I sit with Sami, listening to her chatter about a little of everything and apologizing for not having any cookies to serve with tea because only Momma knows where the cookies are kept and she hadn't left her any to serve at her tea party.

With pretend tea, I'm not sure why you need real cookies, but from all the chattering that Sami's been doing, I gather that, when she has a tea party with Mac, they have real cookies.

Daddy, too, knows where the cookies are kept, but I didn't want to allow her to have a cookie when no one else was going to have one, nor did I want to run the risk that a mid-morning treat would spoil her appetite for lunch.

Our tea party ended moments ago when cries from the nursery through the monitor let me know that it was time to change and feed the youngest Rabb before starting lunch for the rest of the children.

Upon returning to the living room with Patty, I place her in her swing and go to the kitchen to warm a bottle.

Returning to the living room with a warmed bottle in hand, Matthew becomes vocal and lets me know that he's been confined to his playpen long enough, so I make a quick stop to lift the toddler out of his playpen and put him on the floor where he can stretch his legs a bit while I sit on the couch and feed Patty.

Once I've settled my large frame on the couch with Patty in my arms, I scan the room to find Matthew.

Seeing that Matthew has made his way over to the corner where he's discovered his blocks and has begun to play with them, I turn my attention back to Patty.

"I think that Daddy's going to get a gold star for today, baby girl. Things couldn't be running more smoothly," I say to little Sarah as I lift the bottle to her lips.

**TEN MINUTES LATER**

I spoke too soon, and my incident-free day has been shot down by our almost three-month-old baby.

Today is one of those days when my baby girl has decided that a bottle isn't the same as having Momma, and she's sucking for a moment and then stopping.

After I've waited for at least two minutes, only then will she even take the nipple back into her mouth.

I know that, once she's figured out that Mac isn't going to take over and she's super hungry, my baby girl will empty the bottle eagerly, but it will be like a clash of the titans before she gives in and drinks from the bottle.

Checking my watch, I feel no pressure to get Sarah fed because I have plenty of time before I need to prepare lunch and get Sami and Matthew down for a nap.

Having waited for at least two minutes, I lift the bottle to little Sarah's lips with no success in getting her to take it into her mouth when I hear a horrendous crash, which sounded like it came from the kitchen.

Firmly grasping Patty, I jump to my feet. However, not sure what I'm going to find, I decide not to take her with me.

Not wanting to take the time to properly secure her in her swing, I place her in the playpen that Matthew was in earlier and head double-time into the kitchen.

**KITCHEN**

I reach the kitchen, and the usually clean floor is covered with a white powdery substance and broken pieces of blue porcelain, with a little girl, who's coated in the same substance, standing in the middle of it.

"Samantha!"

Her eyelids flutter, and the flour covering her face makes her brown eyes appear much darker.

"It was a accident. I was looking for the cookies so I'd know where they were for our next tea party," she states in near tears as she looks down at the bits of broken canister and flour.

I get as close as I dare to the mess on the floor and reach out to pluck my daughter from the middle of it.

What I hadn't considered is that my youngest son has followed me into the kitchen.

"No, Matthew," I say with Samantha lifted up above the mess, but I have no way to get to him before he's reached the pile of flour on the floor.

Quickly, I put Samantha down next to me in order to scoop up Matthew before he can grab any pieces of the broken porcelain.

That mission is accomplished, but it doesn't mean that I was fast enough to grab him before he plopped himself down in the middle of the flour on the floor, meaning that I now have not one but two flour-covered children.

In trying to keep my one-year-old away from potential injury from the broken canister, I didn't think about what I was doing when I scooped him up and grasped him firmly, which means that the whole left side of my shirt is covered in flour.

Now, of course, is when I hear Patty start her 'I'll take the bottle now, I'm starving' cry coming from the other room.

Needing to clean up my children and the kitchen, and feed my daughter, I'm forced to call for help.

"Abigail, Ty," I yell as I head down the hall towards the bathroom with Sami in one arm and Matt in the other as I take them to put them in the bathtub.

Upon reaching the bathroom, I find that I'm now covered in almost as much flour as they are.

**DEN/HOME OFFICE **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS. VA**

**2230**

**MAC'S POV**

I'm not sure that Harm would've told me about his morning with the children had there not been witnesses, at least ones who could talk. However, since he had to recruit Abigail and Ty to help him with the younger children, he really had no choice. Someone was going to tell me what they'd done to help out Dad today.

I wish that I could've been there to see my fighter-jock, nerves of steel husband standing in a floury mess.

Of course, it's probably better that I wasn't there because I would've been laughing, which wouldn't have helped at all.

I know that Sami was worried that she was in big trouble and would never get dessert again because of her accident today, but after Mattie arrived, Harm said that he was able to have a long talk with Sami, and she's okay now, so I think that, though the day didn't run smoothly, it was good for Harm to have a day with the children.

Since Harm had had an eventful day, once we'd put the last of our children to bed, he'd been ready to relax so we'd gone to our room. However, moments after he'd flopped down on the bed, he was fast asleep.

With Harm sleeping beside me, I stare at the ceiling.

Awake and without anyone to talk to, it doesn't take my mind long to wander to the case of the Marine wife who's been accused of neglecting and endangering her baby.

Since I offered to review the woman's case and am unable to fall asleep thinking about it,I head to the den to see if I can learn any more about the charges or my client by viewing any news spots or newspaper articles that I can find on the web before I meet with Harriet tomorrow.

Within minutes, I find four snippets that had aired on our local news and three newspaper articles on the case.

All the TV news spots give consistent information that no one had suspected that anything was amiss with the twenty-seven-year-old mother of three until her four-month-old baby girl had to be hospitalized a week ago.

After watching the news items and reading the articles, I shut down the computer.

Heading to bed, I acknowledge to myself that I didn't learn much during my research, but at least I know my client's name, Wanda Avery.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: ** A thanks to janlaw, who some time ago gave Lee and me much information that has been useful in plotting the highlights of Volume III of this series. For instance, she informed us that there is no such office/unit known as JLS. However, to continue to work within the canon of the series as I've tried to do with these stories, JLS will be closed in what I hope is a believable way. Though more of the information with which she supplied us won't appear until later chapters, since some of the information that she supplied appears here in this part, I wanted to make sure to acknowledge her help. So, THANK YOU, janlaw.

**PART THREE **

**SUNDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2008**

**KITCHEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**DURING BREAKFAST PREPARATION**

**HARM'S POV**

I enter the kitchen, and Mac instinctively turns to greet me.

"Good morning," she says.

"Morning," I respond, unsure if 'good' applies as I look at her face and see her bloodshot eyes. Dark circles underscore them, completing the look - a sure sign that she's exhausted.

"If the baby kept you up, you should have awakened me. I would've taken over so that you could get some sleep," I say thoughtfully, hoping that there will be no misunderstanding that I'm concerned about her and not scolding her for not waking me.

"I didn't wake you because it wasn't Patty who was keeping me awake."

Once I've reached her, I take her into my arms and put my lips to hers to apply a gentle morning kiss.

Pulling back slightly and resting my hands on her hips, I rattle off several things that have caused her to be unable to sleep in the past.

"Was it one of the other children ... bad dreams ... anxiety about my family coming back in a few days?"

"No, none of those. I'm actually looking forward to them coming back," she says, twisting out of my embrace to return to her task of whipping the egg mixture for her French toast. "Having them here to help with the children will make it easier for me to work on my case."

"Your case...?" I say with some confusion.

"You must have been too worn out to remember what I told you last night about the Marine wife who Harriet told me about before the auction started."

"No, I recall that. I just don't remember you mentioning that you'd taken her case."

Mac turns and looks up at me with those big brown eyes of hers shining brightly, and I know that, even if I had an objection to her taking on this woman as a client, I couldn't make my case because I can't say no to her when she looks at me like that.

"That may be because she isn't actually a client of mine."

"How do you have a case without a client?" I ask, my confusion easily read on my face as well as heard in my voice.

"Since I haven't met with the accused yet, I can't say that she's my client. However, I have a case because I promised Harriet that I'd offer my legal services," Mac informs me as if she's sorry that I got lost in the conversation and didn't get it the first time.

"That makes sense," I acknowledge before asking curiously, "What's the case about?"

"I don't have a lot of information. I'll know more this afternoon after Harriet shares information that she got from a conversation with the woman," Mac replies.

"That's why we're going over to the Roberts' early, so that you can speak with Harriet about your case," I say with a new understanding of the change in our schedule.

"Yes," she says before looking at me in _that way _again and adding, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Going to see Bud early? No, I don't mind," I say with a smirk.

"I meant me taking a case, and you know it," she counters as she playfully slaps my arm.

"Taking a case is completely up to you," I say before placing my lips on hers.

Then our moment is broken when Ty enters the kitchen.

"How long until the French toast is ready? I'm starving," Ty says melodramatically, forcing an abrupt end to our kiss.

I get a sweet smile from her before she turns her attention back to making breakfast.

"Why don't you and I go set the table and let your mom have the kitchen so that she can concentrate, and I'll bet that breakfast will be ready in no time," I suggest, a wide smile appearing on my face as a memory of me being permanently hungry at about his age passes through my mind, and knowing that keeping your hands and mind busy helps to keep it off your growling stomach.

**KITCHEN ROBERTS RESIDENCE  
MANASSAS, VA**

**1600**

**MAC'S POV**

"I don't know how you do that," Harriet comments as she stirs something in a pot on the stove.

She appears to be somewhat dumbfounded by the fact that, after she'd asked her mother to leave the kitchen so that we could talk 'business' with no result, I requested privacy in almost exactly the same way and got her mother to leave without even a questioning glance.

"Marines have command presence that even civilians sense," I say with a smile.

Harriet smiles in return.

"It worked to get her to leave, but that doesn't necessarily mean that she'll be gone long," I add.

"Well, it shouldn't take long for me to tell you what I know about the prosecution's case. Mrs. Avery told me what she was charged with, but we didn't discuss any evidence that they might have against her. Mostly, she talked and I listened, and I didn't hear anything criminal in what she said, but then...I'm not a lawyer."

Harriet stops speaking, and I can see tears pooling in her eyes.

I reach over and place my hand on my friend's shoulder.

"Harriet?" I say her name like a question.

She pats my hand. "I'm sorry," she begins, and I remove my hand from her shoulder. "It's just that her story touched me because I could see how easily it could've played out in my own house. I think that's why her case became so important to me so quickly ... and the thought that they took her children into protective custody ... that they won't be together for Christmas. It breaks my heart," she says, reaching for a paper towel, the nearest thing useful in drying tears.

"Then tell me her story," I request, hoping that sharing it with me won't add to her distress.

Harriet recounts the story that Mrs. Avery told her about taking care of three children twenty-four hours a day without any kind of support system while worrying about whether her husband would come back from his current deployment to Iraq, and that tired, exhausted really, Mrs. Avery hadn't seen the warning signs of there being anything seriously wrong with her baby until the morning that she'd taken her to the hospital.

The true crime, in Harriet's opinion, was that the woman's arrest had been made so quickly - within hours of the little girl being admitted - that her mother hadn't been able to see or be with her daughter through her treatment.

"It's unusual for the police to make an arrest so quickly. Hers being made within hours of her taking the baby to the hospital, there'd have to be clear evidence or a confession. Without one or the other, I seriously doubt that they have much of a case since conducting a thorough investigation would typically take more than a few hours," I say, voicing my thoughts. "So, the first thing that I need to do is to get a look at whatever they're calling evidence."

"How can I help you get a look at it?" Harriet asks, eager to do anything that will aid this woman.

"In order to be privy to the evidence and thus the prosecution's case, I need to be either Mrs. Avery's attorney or a member of her defense team. That means that I need to speak with her," I say emphatically.

"Do you want me to call her now?" Harriet asks with enthusiasm.

"No, the Turners will be here soon, and I don't want to leave your dinner party to speak with her. Why don't you call her tomorrow and, if she's interested in meeting with me, let me know and I'll make arrangements to meet with her as soon as I can ... which will be tricky until Wednesday when my in-laws return and I'll have an abundance of babysitters at my disposal."

"Do you think that there's any chance that Mrs. Avery will be with her children for Christmas?" Harriet asks with a sigh.

"Once I see what the prosecution has in the way of evidence, I'll be able to better gauge that, but I can tell you that I'll try my best to make it happen."

"I'm sure that a woman like yourself has no trouble in making _anything_ happen." This comment comes in sugary drops off the tongue of Harriet's mother, apparently having heard the tail end of my statement.

"Now, Harriet, do you think that you're going to make this dinner happen or have you wasted too much time gossiping?" Harriet's mother says with a certain amount of disappointment in her voice.

"It'll be ready, Mother," Harriet replies while rolling her eyes.

Harriet is such a wonderful person, but you'd never know it by listening to her mother.

"You sure that there's nothing that I can do to help?" Harriet's mother asks, not giving up on the notion that Harriet doesn't have dinner under control.

"Yes, Mother, I"m sure," Harriet responds, not even trying to hide her annoyance.

"I'm going to go check on Harm and the children. I'll be back in a minute," I say in order to give Harriet and her mother a few minutes alone to clear the air before the Turners arrive for dinner.

**DINING ROOM**

**DINNERTIME**

**HARRIET'S POV**

A delay with their flight cause the Turners to run late, so, once they arrive, there's no time for chatting because dinner is ready to be served.

Bud, Harm and Mac make plates for our children and theirs, allowing me to focus on getting our dinner on the table while giving Sturgis and Varese a few moments to freshen up.

Matthew is put in a highchair under the watchful eye of his big brother, Tyler, and once he and the other older children are seated with plates in front of them at the table in the kitchen, the adults are able to finally settle into their seats in the dining room.

Thankfully, the two infants, Patty and Sofia, the Turners' daughter, are asleep when dinner is ready to be served.

It's been a long time since this group was together ... well, the core people who once severed together at JAG HQ.

I think the last time that we were all in one place was when we all attended Sturgis and Varese's wedding.

A lot has changed since then, yet, somehow around my dining table tonight, it all seems the same.

The first thing that strikes me about the scene in front of me is that my mother must be star-struck by Varese. She's sitting quietly, staring at her.

The rare sight of my mother speechless is a surreal experience for me. It must be similar to what my mother is feeling at having a 'star' sitting across from her at the dining table.

When I hear my guests say "Amen", I realize that the meal prayer that Sturgis was saying has come to an end while I was lost in thought.

"I'd like to say a few words before we eat," I say, standing.

"I'd like for Varese to know that her donation to my charity, her generous offer to perform at a New Year's party, was the top money maker at the auction yesterday, and I want to express my gratitude for her support," I say, reaching for my glass.

"To Varese," I say, raising my wineglass.

"Harriet, thank you, but it isn't necessary," she replies, sounding embarrassed. "I was going to apologize to you later for not being able to give you a list of several dates on which I could perform, but my time is so restricted right now."

"Though not for much longer," Sturgis says, reaching for his wife's hand as if to show his support, or perhaps her unavailability is a bone of contention between them and he's trying to comfort her so that it doesn't affect her mood.

"True, but we don't have a definite time line, and I wouldn't want to make a promise that I couldn't keep," Varese responds, looking at her husband.

**MAC'S POV**

Curious to know if there's another little Turner on the way that might be the cause for her limited time schedule, I ask with a lifted eyebrow and in a teasing tone, "Anything that you care to share with the class, Sturgis?"

Sturgis doesn't look at his wife to request silent permission to share the news of a pregnancy, so I brace myself for news that could darken the mood of Harriet's dinner party.

"I've decided to retire," Sturgis announces.

"Retire, really? I thought that you were a lifer, Buddy," Harm says with a chuckle, but there's surprise in his voice as well.

"Things change. It's time," Sturgis answers without a note of regret.

"I'm afraid that a lot of it has to do with me," Varese says, sounding apologetic. "I'm sure that you can understand, Mac. Harriet has her charity work, but you stay at home with your children. You must miss your career as much as I've been missing mine."

If she was going to continue with more information, she doesn't get a chance because I feel the need to defend myself.

"I don't miss it much since I've taken on a case here and there. In fact, I'm supposed to meet with a new client this coming week." I stop there when I feel Harm's hand gently squeezing my knee. It's a silent way of him telling me, "Power down, Marine."

"I'm glad to hear that, but for me, I couldn't find a balance that worked for me. After Sofia turned three-months-old, I did sing at a club in the Gas Lamp District for six weeks, but it was hard to be up all night and take care of a baby all day. So I didn't sign for another engagement there or anywhere else. Then, two months ago, my agent started to send me possbile material for a new album. I'd thought that was the answer. I'd record a new album every so often, and between recording sessions, I'd work on selecting songs for the next one. Then three weeks ago during a meeting in LA with the producer who would seal the record deal, they told me that not touring to promote the CD was a deal breaker. I left things hanging with the recording company, telling them that, before I could commit to any tour dates, I'd have to look at my husband's schedule and get back to them, but truthfully, I thought that the deal was dead since we'd talked about it before she was born and agreed that we didn't want a nanny to raise Sofia."

It's then that Sturgis takes over the explanation.

"I know that you've heard the scuttlebutt since the election about what programs will be cut from the budget, and the JLS concept has been one that's been mentioned on more than one occasion. Just two days before Varese's deadline to say yea or nay to her deal, I got a call that put the rumors to rest. Once the President-elect is in office, the JLS program is slated to be cut. Since I had been giving some thought to retiring to spend time with my daughter, hearing that I'd soon be looking for a new billet and probably moving my family, especially when Varese had an opportunity to go back to what she loves to do, it made it clear to me that now was the time. I don't have an exact date yet, but my papers are in. So I'll close the office and ride quietly into the sunset, as the saying goes."

**APARTMENT OF EVA LEVINE **

**GEORGETOWN**

**2200 **

Looking down at the woman who lay sprawled out on the floor, a tear formed in his eye.

For a fraction of a second, he let himself regret ... first for falling in love with her and then for killing her. Then he got back to work.

Slipping on his winter gloves before touching anything, he made sure that he had his keys, wallet and any other personal belongings that might be a link to him. Then he picked up the wineglass that he'd drunk from and moved to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, he dropped the wineglass into the wastebasket where he'd tossed the condom that he'd used earlier in the evening before lifting the plastic liner and replacing it with a new one.

Not wanting to risk that, even with a condom on, he'd left some DNA on the sheets, he grabbed fresh bed sheets from the closet, changed the sheets on the bed and balled up the dirty ones to take with him.

Before leaving the bedroom, he took a clinical look at her body lying on the floor with the wine-soaked scarf that he'd used to strangle her still wrapped around her throat.

Seeing nothing around her body that could link him to her death, he moved to the next room.

Someone began to pound on the door yelling, "Eva, is everything all right in there? Eva, open up!" Then the pounding stopped, and the voice from the other side of the door screamed, "I'm going to call the police!"

Not worried about getting out of the apartment without being seen since he'd leave the same way that he always did - the route that had no security cameras - out the window onto the fire escape, then up to the roof and down the stairs, and knowing that he had a few minutes before the police arrived because the falling snow would delay their response time, he had time to take one more quick look around.

Before sirens could be heard approaching, the man, along with any evidence that he'd been there, were in a dark sedan driving away from the scene.

**MINUTES LATER**

The police had responded to a 9-1-1 call about unusually loud noises coming from apartment number 301.

After speaking with the neighbor who'd placed the call to get a little more information, the officers positioned themselves on either side of the door and then one of the officers knocked.

"Police! Open the door!"

No one answered.

This time, the officer pounded firmly on the door. "Police! Open up! We're responding to a disturbance call!"

No response.

"I'll go check with our caller to see if there's a manager or someone who can let us in," the younger of the two officers said to his partner.

A few moments later, he jogged back into his position on the left side of the door, reporting, "No luck. No one on the premises is known to have a key."

"Then we'll have to kick it in," the senior officer said to his rookie partner.

Just six months on the job, the young cop thought that kicking people's doors in was something that was reserved for TV cops.

Sensing reluctance from his new partner, the veteran officer explained the need for the action.

"The occupant won't answer the door. We don't have a key, so the door is coming down so that we can get in there to see if anyone inside is hurt," he explained.

The rookie nodded his understanding of the situation and then kicked open the door with a loud thud.

Cautiously, the two patrolmen walked into the apartment with guns drawn until they found a woman on the floor of her bedroom with a scarf wrapped around her neck.

"Is she dead?" the younger officer asked.

Though it wouldn't be official until the coroner declared it, once the seasoned patrol officer had checked for a pulse, he knew that the woman whom they'd just found was dead, and from the looks of the apartment, she hadn't gone down without a fight.

"Yes," came the graveled voice of the older officer.

The rookie stood there motionless, staring at his first real-life crime scene. "But it's almost Christmas," he choked out in disbelief as if somehow the timing made it impossible for it to be true.

"Unfortunately, kid, death doesn't take holidays," the veteran officer said.

Pausing for a moment to scan the room, thinking about the way that it appeared - that this woman had met with a violent death - the seasoned officer made a mental note that perhaps his new partner had part of it right - the timing of a loss like this would make it hard on her family.

"Call for a bus and the CSI boys," the veteran officer ordered, drawing his stunned partner's attention.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**2145**

**HARM'S POV**

"It's been another long day, and I'm tired," I say as I watch my wife remove her earrings while standing in front of the dresser.

"I'm tired tonight, too," Mac states, sounding somewhat distracted.

"Not surprising since I don't think that you slept at all last night," I comment while working to remove my shirt.

"I slept, just not much."

"I haven't had a chance to ask before now. How did the talk with Harriet go about the case?" I ask, now shirtless.

"She couldn't tell me a lot, but I didn't really expect her to have any information about the evidence or the prosecution's case. What I really wanted to know is why she felt so strongly that the woman wasn't guilty of anything."

Having removed the jewelry that she wore this evening, Mac walks over to me and does an about face in front of me.

Lifting her hair is my only signal of what she's requesting.

I reach for the zipper pull and begin to tug on it slowly, enjoying the view as the fabric separates, exposing her back along the way.

With the zipper down, Mac moves away from me, and that's when I realize that I'd been so caught up in the view of my wife's back that I'd let the room fall silent.

After a premeditated "Mmm" to give her the idea that I'd been mulling over what she'd said, I wait for another moment before speaking.

"Did what Harriet tell you about the woman convince _you_ that she's innocent?" I ask.

"I'm afraid that I'm not as idealistic as Harriet, so I need more convincing, but I must say that what she did tell me made me want to get a look at the evidence and speak with the woman myself," she informs me while removing her dress.

Taking in the view of her in her bra and panties, I once again let the room fall silent.

Mac steps up to me.

Apparently having taken my silence to mean something that it didn't, she asks, "Does it bother you that I want to work on this case?"

"No, I told you before that what cases you do or don't take is up to you. My only concern would be for your safety or the safety of our family if you took on some mobster's case or something like that, but even then, the choice is yours since I'm sure that keeping our children safe is a priority for you, too."

"Just checking..."

Then it dawns on me that it may not have been my silence but the news that Sturgis is retiring that spurred her to ask the question.

"When Sturgis said that he was retiring, I know that he sounded like he was okay with it, but did you see the way that he looked when Varese was telling us about recording her album and touring? I got the feeling that he may not be as okay with her comeback as he was letting on," Mac says, confirming my latest revelation before I can comment on the idea.

"I have to say that his announcement caught me by surprise. I thought that he was wanting to go all the way and be JAG one day, but like he said, things change. When a man has a family, his priorities change. If you told me that you wanted to go back to work full-time while our children were still young, retirement would be back on my mind pretty quickly," I offer.

"He said that the plan was for him and Sofia to travel with Varese while she's on tour. You know Sturgis pretty well. Do you think that he's going to be happy doing that or do you think that her comeback may be at the cost of their marriage?"

"He and I haven't been that kind of friends for a while, ones who talk openly about such a personal subject. If you want my opinion, though Varese was a celebrity before, when they got married, she left the limelight. With her comeback, she'll be back in the spotlight. Turner is a private guy ... close to the vest. I'm not sure that he'll be comfortable in her world. So I do think that it may put a strain on their marriage, but I don't believe that it will cause them to divorce."

"Do you remember when the paparazzi took their picture that made one of those checkout line magazines? I think that it was something like their third date, Sturgis told me. He wasn't happy about being a cover story, but he didn't stop dating her, so you could have a point. Sturgis is on leave and will be staying in the area visiting with his father while Varese goes overseas to do a Christmas USO show for the troops. Maybe you can give him a call, and the two of you can shoot some hoops and have some guy talk," Mac suggests.

"It's winter, Mac. I'm not going to shoot hoops in five inches of snow!" I protest.

"Then go to the gym...meet for a beer...make a play date for the kids...just let him know that he has someone who he can talk to...that the past is the past and that whatever pulled the two of you apart is forgotten."

"He wanted me court-martialed for murder, Mac!" I say vehemently

"I thought it was manslaughter." Her voice trails off, but it's only to pause in thought before she continues, "It doesn't matter. Both of you are older and wiser now. He invited us to his wedding, so he obviously isn't holding a grudge. You need to make sure that he knows that you aren't either."

"We _went_ to his wedding. Hell, we even gave them a gift," I answer with a slight snort, thinking, 'Why do I have to do anything else?'

"If you can tell me what we gave them, I'll drop it," she says, knowing full well that she purchased the gift and had it wrapped, so I have no idea what it was that we gave them as a wedding present.

After a few moments of no response from me, she says, "Then I guess that settles that. You'll give him a call."

"Yes, I'll give him a call to see what I can work out," I reply, giving in.

As I unbutton my pants to finish getting ready for bed, I wonder if I should even try to explain to Mac that a man will call a friend at his wife's request to make sure that there are no hard feelings or even retire because he loves her - that making her happy makes him happy, and that's why I don't share her concern for the Turners' marriage.


	26. Chapter 26

**PART FOUR**

**TUESDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2008**

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**THE PENTAGON**

**1030**

**HARM'S POV**

True to my word, I called Sturgis yesterday morning.

Knowing that, with the slow pace of the office these days, I'd have no trouble taking a long lunch, I agreed to meet him at a local athletic center that he informed me has an indoor basketball court.

Stepping out of my office, the twenty-something woman who's been assigned to be my executive assistant during the last three months of my assignment here perks up, preparing for her instructions.

"Mary, I'll be out of the office until 1400."

She gives me that look, the one that says 'what the hell time is that?'.

"If the daycare should need to reach me for any reason, have them call me on my cell." Thinking that, while I'm on the court or in the locker room I may not have access to or hear my mobile phone ring, I add, "If it's an emergency, they should call me first, but if I don't answer, tell them to call my wife. If anything other than something to do with my children comes up, I'll be back at two to take care of it."

"Is there anything else that I need to know, Captain?"

"No, Mary. I'll see you after lunch."

"Yes, Sir. See you at two." She says the latter with an appreciative smile, thankful that I'd spoken in 'civilian' to clarify the time when I'd be returning.

I nod to acknowledge that she'd spoken and leave the office to meet Sturgis for a friendly game of one-on-one.

**HOME OF MAJOR JAMES AVERY, USMC**

**ALEXANDRIA, VA **

**1100**

**MAC'S POV**

I spoke to Mrs. Avery only briefly yesterday when I called to make this appointment to see her, and she sounded strong and ready to fight the charges to get her children back.

The woman who opened the door a moment ago and introduced herself as Wanda Avery is frail looking and not at all like the woman whom I'd envisioned from her voice over the phone.

It isn't that she's overly thin that makes her look so fragile. It's her gaunt face and the dark circles under her eyes that make her appear to be that way.

Following her to the kitchen where she said that we could sit to talk, I take a moment to put myself in her shoes.

I don't think that I'd be holding up even half as well as she is if my children had been taken from me.

Wanda Avery motions for me to have a seat at the table to our right as we enter the kitchen.

"I haven't been to the store recently, but I can offer you tea or coffee if you'd like some," she says in a soft voice.

Having slipped into the chair at the end of the table, I place my bag on my lap in order to easily withdraw a pen and the pad with my notes on it.

"Nothing for me, thank you," I reply. However, when I catch a glimpse of her reaching for the back of the chair to my left, I add, "Please don't let that stop you from getting something for yourself."

She slips into the chair that she's pulled slightly back from the table.

"I didn't want anything. I just ... you're just being so nice that I didn't want you to think that I'm not grateful to you for wanting to help. Up until now, I didn't think that anyone was interested in hearing my side," she responds.

"I'm sure that you have a lot on your mind. I wouldn't have thought less of you if you hadn't offered me anything," I say, looking directly at her, which earns me a half-hearted smile.

"Mrs. Roberts said that you have children. How many do you have?" she asks as I, having now retrieved my legal pad and pen, place my bag down on the floor next to my chair, ready to take notes.

"Five at home and a sixth who's off at college," I reply, making eye contact with her.

"Five? Really? How old?" she asks.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't answer such a personal question that was posed by a client, but I believe that she needs to know that, like Harriet, I won't judge her because I understand her situation.

Though I think that it's important to have her feel at ease enough to talk to me, I still don't want to divulge too much personal information, especially when it comes to my children, so I quickly edit the information into an answer that I feel doesn't reveal too much.

"The oldest one at home will be nine in March, but our youngest isn't quite three months old."

"My baby is four months old," she says tearfully.

She plucks a tissue from a box of Kleenex that's sitting on the table.

The redness of her eyes suggests that she spends a lot of time crying, and the placement of the box indicates that she does it here at the kitchen table.

She sniffles as she dabs at her eyes and then says, "Harriet said that you're married to a serviceman so you understand that being a military wife is different."

"Yes, I'm married to a man who's in the Navy."

I had originally planned to stop there, but I don't have much time to gain her trust, so sharing something personal may be the best way to accomplish that.

"Marriage is different when your spouse is in the military. The hardest part for me was when he was wounded while I was pregnant with our last child. I'm not sure that I could've cared for my children alone during that time. Thankfully, my in-laws are wonderful people who adore their grandchildren and, along with good friends, my children were well-cared for until my husband was back on his feet and able to help me."

Now, I think it's time that I got her to talk about herself and her case, but because I believe that a gentle approach is needed, I begin with a question related to the information that I just disclosed.

"Do you have family from either side who live close by who can help you, especially when your husband is deployed?"

"I have a sister who's within a two-hour drive, but she works full-time and, with a husband and two children, too, she's busy. When we do get together, whether they come here or we drive there, it's usually for some holiday or other. Thank God she lives close enough that she was able to take in my children so they didn't have to go into foster care." She stops speaking and wipes fresh tears from her eyes.

"Have you, your attorney, children's services or your sister contacted your husband's command to see if he could get either emergency or compassionate leave to come home to support you and to care for your children?" I ask, not wanting to assume that he'd been notified by someone.

"Someone at children's services called when I was arrested, but I haven't heard anything from him or anybody else saying that he's coming home." After a pause of less than a heartbeat she adds bitterly, "Perhaps that's because the Marine Corps doesn't think that losing my children is important to their mission."

Along with the bitterness, I sense anger, and that works in my favor. If she's angry, she'll be more willing to fight than the depressed woman who answered the door.

Not wanting to seem insensitive, but not knowing how long I have before she becomes despondent again, I quickly acknowledge what she said by saying, "It could be that he's unreachable at this time. I'll make a note to check on his status," I add as I start to write.

Once I've finished writing myself a note about finding out about her husband, not that I'm likely to forget, but I needed to show her that I wasn't glossing over what she said since I need for her to trust me if I stand a chance of helping her.

"I'm sure that you've been over it a hundred times and I'm sure that it isn't pleasant for you to talk about, but I need for you to tell me what happened that led you to take your baby to the hospital."

"There isn't much to tell. My son had the flu and had been home from school for two days. My four-year-old had an ear infection, and the baby had been running a fever off and on but didn't have any other symptoms. Since both of my previous children had cut their first tooth between four and five months old, I assumed that she was teething and gave her some infant Tylenol."

"If you thought that she was teething, what made you take her to the ER?" I ask.

"The morning that I took her in, she wasn't just crying. She was screaming. When I picked her up, she wasn't just feverish. She felt so hot that it was like she was on fire. I knew at that moment that she wasn't just teething, and I rushed her to the emergency room."

"Is the information that I have correct? You were arrested at the hospital not long after your baby was seen in the ER?"

"To me, it seemed like we'd just arrived there, but I know that isn't true because she'd been seen by the doctor and they'd transferred her upstairs to the pediatric unit, but they still hadn't told me what was wrong and if she was going to be okay. I know that it was still Saturday, but my sister had had time to drive over to pick up my other two children who I'd taken with me so that I could leave the house immediately. Something was wrong with my baby. There was no time to make calls to find out if there was anyone who could watch them. Is that why they think that I'm such a bad mother that I'd intentionally hurt one of them ... because I took my other children to the hospital with me?"

"I can't know what the prosecution is thinking without talking to your public defender, but I'd need your permission to speak with him," I explain.

"I don't think that he'll be able to help you. I don't think that he knows what he's doing. Before my arraignment, he advised me to plead not guilty, and then, after he got me released on what they called an ROR and we were waiting on some paperwork so that I could go home, he told me that, if I changed my plea to not guilty because I was crazy, he thought that he could arrange a deal where I'd get probation."

"I don't need for him to have much experience. What I need is for him to give me access to your case file in order to review the evidence that they have against you," I state reassuringly.

Her eyes lock on mine.

"You know, after being without my children for a week, I was ready to call my attorney this morning and tell him to make the deal, but before I could make the call, Mrs. Roberts called and told me that there was someone who wanted to help me. Then, a few minutes later, you called to arrange to stop by today, so I waited to see what you had to say before I called him."

"I'm glad that you didn't make that call. First, an innocent person shouldn't have to go to jail or be on probation, and secondly, even if your attorney were able to make a deal with the DA, there's no guarantee that your children would be allowed to live with you again if you plead guilty to the charges."

She looks shocked at the revelation that, just because she does what the DA wants, it doesn't go hand-in-hand with her getting her children back.

"I'm not going to get them back, am I?" she asks with a tear-filled voice, her posture suggesting that I've just squashed any hope that she had just moments ago.

"I wish that I could tell you with certainty that you will, but the best that I can do, especially before I get some idea of the case against you, is to promise that I'll do the best that I can to reunite you with your children...that is, if you want me on your case."

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**THE PENTAGON**

**DURING THE SAME TIME **

**MARY'S POV**

"I need to see Captain Rabb," the woman who's standing in front of my desk says in a demanding tone.

"I'm sorry, but he isn't in at the moment," I inform the woman.

"It's imperative that I see him as soon as possible. When will he be back?" the woman with a briefcase asks me.

"He said that he'd be back at two. Would you like to leave him a message to contact you when he returns?" I ask.

"No. I'll try his cellphone. If I can't reach him that way, I'll come back at two," she says in a distressed huff before retreating from the room.

"I wonder what that was about," I mutter out loud to my now empty office.

**ATHLETIC CENTER**

**ARLINGTON, VA**

**1120**

**HARM'S POV**

I walk into the athletic center with my gym bag in hand to find that Sturgis is waiting for me at the sign-in desk, already in shorts and a tee-shirt.

"Harm, good to see you."

He sounds surprised that I'm here, which I find to be an odd reaction since I called him to set up this meeting.

"Good to see you, too. Ready to get your butt handed to you on the court?" I ask.

Just because I'm here to make nice doesn't mean that I'm going to change my personality. I'm competitive, something of which the man who I've known since my Academy days is well aware, so he'd expect nothing less than for me to want to win.

"You're all signed in as my guest, so I'll show you to the locker room. After you change, we'll see who's still got game."

He says the later with a huge grin.

'He couldn't have learned any new moves. He's just trying to get a win by messing with my head,' I think as I follow him to the locker room.

**LOCKER ROOM**

**MOMENTS LATER**

I've just finished tying my tennis shoes and am about to stand to shove my gym bag into a locker when I hear my cellphone ring from inside the bag.

"Sorry, one more minute. I need to check to see who's calling."

I unzip my bag to retrieve the device.

Looking at the caller ID, I say to Sturgis who's waiting for me, "It isn't Mac or the daycare center, so they can leave a message. I'll get back to them when I get back to the office."

"Do all of your kids go to daycare?" Sturgis asks as I pitch my cellphone back into the bag and zip it up.

"No, just two. Sami and Matthew go twice a week right now, though they'd go more often if Mac is working and my parents aren't here. There's no reason to send Abigail and Tyler since they're older and attend school. Patty is so young that she stays with Mac ninety-nine percent of the time, but today, Mac is meeting with a potential client, and Harriet is keeping an eye on her until Mac or I can get there to pick her up.

Who has your daughter today?" I ask while shoving my belongings into the locker with my uniform.

"She's with my dad and her nanny."

"Nanny?" I say questioningly with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, her nanny. She's great, but not who I want to raise my daughter. With Varese in meetings about her album and rehearsing for the Christmas USO tour in Afghanistan, we needed someone to help out until I retire and can be a stay-at-home father."

"I never pictured you as a Mr. Mom kind of guy, Sturgis."

"Funny, I never pictured you as the type to marry a Marine and have six kids," he says with a chuckle.

"Touche," I say as I close the locker.

"So you're okay with retiring to stay home and change diapers?" I ask with a smile because I'm sure that I already know the answer.

"I know that it may seem that Varese is forcing me into this, but really, from the moment that Sofia came into this world, I've wanted to be there for her, so I'd been considering retirement before Varese got this opportunity. The fact that the JLS is shutting down and Varese got the chance to sing professionally again ... it was just the sign that I needed to say that it was the right time." He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Thanks for your concern, Buddy, but I'm good, and Varese and I will be fine," he says.

"Glad to hear it," I respond.

"Now quit stalling and come take your butt whipping," he says, motioning for me to follow him out of the locker room and to the basketball court.

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**THE PENTAGON**

**1355**

Entering the office, I take the pink message slips that Mary is offering in her outstretched hand as I reach her desk.

"You also had a visitor who didn't leave a message or her name, though you may have already spoken to her since she said that she was going to try to reach you on your cellphone."

"I did miss a call, but I didn't recognize the number and, when I checked, the caller hadn't left a message. If it was the same person, what she wanted couldn't have been too important if she didn't leave a voice mail," I state.

"She sure made it sound like it was important. She even said that if she didn't reach you by phone, she'd be back at two."

I take a quick look at my watch.

"Then I guess it won't be long before I'll know who she is and what she wants then, will it?"

"No, Sir, I guess not," Mary replies, looking towards the door behind me.

I start to turn my head to see who's there, but before I've had a chance, I hear a woman's voice.

"Harm, I need to speak with you."

Her tone suggests that there _is_ a serious reason for her visit.

I recognize the voice, so I turn on my heel to face her.

"Then shall we step into my office?" I suggest as I briefly extend my arm towards my office door before moving to unlock it.

**INSIDE HARM'S OFFICE**

I walk to my desk and, rounding the rear of it, I decide that there's no reason for either of us to get comfortable.

"I need to tell you that I don't care what kind of simple little task the CIA wants me or Mac to do. We aren't interested because they're never as easy or as safe as we're led to believe when we sign on."

"I'm not here on behalf of the CIA," she says as she drops into one of the chairs in front of my desk.

Now curious about the reason for her visit, I take a seat in my chair as I ask, "Then why are you here?"

"I need someone to draw up some legal documents for me," she says softly.

"Why come to me?" I ask.

"Because I know that I can trust you," she answers sincerely.

"What kind of documents do you need, Catherine?" I ask, ready to help if I can.

"Just routine items that I want done as soon as possible. I need to update my will, and I want my brother to have power of attorney over my daughter in case, for some reason, I become unable to take care of her...that sort of thing. Will you do it?"

"It's nine days until Christmas, and you're thinking about your will?" I ask, confused about her need to do this right now and not after the holidays.

"You know as well as I do that death doesn't take holidays."

Hearing her response, at first I believe it to be a cyptic answer and that she's trying to tell me something without breaking some kind of need-to-know gag order, but then I let go of the notion that everything that CIA employees do is related to some secret agenda and consider that her reason for getting this taken care of quickly is that she's traveling for the holidays. In that case, should something happen, she wants to make sure that there are legal documents in place that will outline her wishes for the care of her daughter.

"True, so tell me exactly what you need, and I'll get them drawn up ASAP," I say, reaching for a pen to write down the information that she gives me.

**DEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1635**

**HARM'S POV**

I was glad when Abigail told me that Mac was in the den working because it will allow me to speak to her in private before I start to fix dinner.

"Harm," she says as I enter the room.

"How was your day?" she asks as I come into the room and close the door behind me.

"Interesting," I reply, not wanting to just blurt out that I have a new client, too, because, though I know that Mac is aware that the mock marriage was something that I did to find her, she's also aware that I dated Catherine Gale for a short time after Paraguay, and I'm not sure how she'll feel about me helping out an old flame.

Mac's moving towards me, and I can feel my body tense, which will be a sure sign to her that I'm keeping something from her.

"How was your day? Do you have a client?" I question before she reaches me and gives me a peck on the lips in greeting.

"You bet I do!" she says as her spine stiffens as if she's preparing to go into battle.

"You believe that she's innocent, too, then?"

"I think that she may be guilty of being overwhelmed, tired and under the stress of being a military spouse, something that the public defender doesn't understand. He wants her to plead guilty by reason of mental defect ... post partum depression, which he told her would get her probation. Yet, when I spoke to him this afternoon, no such deal had been offered. In fact, no deal has yet been offered by the DA, so he isn't acting in the best interest of his client, but is merely trying to clear his case load."

"Does the DA's case have any weight to it?" I ask, wanting to stay on the subject of her case for as long as possible.

"No. They're trying to make a case out of the fact that she took a sleeping pill on Friday night. They say that she neglected the cries of her sick baby in order to get a good night's sleep. Ludicrous! She has three children who she cares for alone because there are no family members or friends close by who are in a position to help. What she needs is some kind of assistance, not prosecution."

Mac's riled up, and I don't think that this is a good time to bring up something that might have her burst into a ball of fire, so I continue to keep her case as the topic of connversation by asking, "Does her husband feel that their children are in danger while under her care?"

"I'd love to ask him that very question. However, he's in Iraq and is either unable or unwilling to come home. I'm still working on finding out which."

"If you'll give me his information, I'll see what I can find out for you. If I can locate him, I'll try to get him home on emergency or compassionate leave ASAP."

She raises a curious eyebrow while she acknowledges my offer. "That's very nice of you. Thank you. I think that it would do my client a world of good if she could just hear his voice, so I believe that even a phone call from him would be helpful."

"Then I'll do what I can to make a call or a visit happen," I say with a smile.

The room falls silent as she stares at me with scrutinizing eyes.

"What are you up to, Mr. Rabb?" she asks.

"Nothing, I just wanted to hear about your day before I started dinner," I reply.

"Nice try, but I'm not buying it. You said that you had an_ interesting _day. Didn't your game with Sturgis go well?"

I don't know why I'm being like this. I haven't done anything wrong.

"We had a great game," I reply with a grin.

"So you won," she says sweetly.

"Sure did..." She knows me so well. "...and he's really at peace with retiring, Mac. He and Varese will be just fine."

"Then why do you look like I just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, and you're trying to think of some reason to give me other than you were getting a cookie before dinner?"

"Do I have to ask which of our children you caught?" I ask.

"Probably not," she says

"Sami," we say in unison.

"We shouldn't have told her where they are in order to keep her from looking for them," Mac says.

Once Mac's started to ask questions, there's no use in trying to keep the news to myself. She won't stop until she's uncovered it, and by making her ask too many questions, it'll make it seem as if I were trying to be deceitful, so I might as well come clean.

"It's nothing really. I just had a visitor today who wanted my legal advice," I say, trying to warm up to telling her who my client is.

"If that's all there is to it, I don't know why you're acting so skittish," she says.

I don't want silence to fill the air, which could let her imagination run away with her, so I speak again.

"That's all there is to it. They just asked me to handle some basic legal documents."

Mac folds her arms in front of her and taps her foot.

"Who is she?" she questions with a tense jaw.

"Catherine Gale," I reply, shallowing hard.

For the first time in a long time, I can't read the expression on her face.

The good news is that I know her angry look, and it isn't the one that I'm seeing now.

"She's a lawyer. Why does she need you?" she asks.

"She told me that she chose me because she wanted a good lawyer who she knew that she could trust," I reply honestly.

"Then it really doesn't matter what I think, does it? You've taken her on as a client, and that's that. Do you want me to start dinner?" she says in a huff.

"No, you keep working on your case. I'll start dinner."

"Fine," she says, turning to return to the desk where she'd been working when I came in.

"Mac," I say, reaching for her arm.

Grasping her elbow, I step closer. "I love you," I say softly, looking into her eyes, but I see no sign of understanding or forgiveness.

She twists from my hold and says, "Send in one of the children to let me know when dinner is ready."

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**BEDTIME**

It's been chilly in the house since I told Mac that I had a visit from Catherine Gale today, and it has nothing to do with the snow falling outside.

Though I don't think that she's angry with me for helping Catherine, she's obviously upset by it, so I've been waiting for her to come to bed so that we can talk more about it.

As she turns down her side of the bed, I say, "Mac, I'm sorry that I didn't think about consulting you before I agreed to be her attorney."

"I don't consult you before I decide who I want to represent. You shouldn't have to check with me, Harm. I also know that it shouldn't upset me that you're drawing up legal documents for her."

She's silent as she takes off her robe, but when she starts to slip into bed, she says, "Maybe it isn't that she's your client, but the fact that it was so hard for you to tell me that bothers me."

"It wasn't that I wanted to keep it from you. I just didn't know how you'd feel about it, so I wasn't sure how I should tell you. That's all, but if it upsets you that much, you say the word, and I'll tell her that I can't be her attorney."

"You'd do that?" she asks, staring into my eyes.

"For you, yes," I reply sincerely.

For that I get a tired smile in response, and suddenly the room is feeling a little warmer.

"I love you," she says softly before her lips come to mine in a sweet good night kiss.

"I don't want to be that kind of wife, one who gives ultimatums, but it means a lot to me that you offered to drop her as a client. However, that won't be necessary. It isn't like you'll be seeing a lot of her, and maybe a good night's sleep will allow me to see things clearly so that I can work through whatever it is that bothers me about it," she informs me when our lips part.

I put my index finger against her cheek to make sure that she keeps eye contact with me.

"I don't want this to come between us. In the morning, if you've changed your mind, let me know, and I'll call her and tell her that she needs to find a new attorney. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, Captain Rabb," she answers.

"Good," I say before placing a soft kiss on her lips.

"Good night, Mac."

"Good night, Harm."


	27. Chapter 27

**PART FIVE **

**FRIDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2008**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**MAC'S POV**

I don't know if it was caused by some dream that I had that I can't remember or if the way that I'm feeling is some kind of post-partum hormonal side effect, but I awoke - a full forty-five minutes before the alarm is set to go off - all hot and bothered and wanting my husband.

I first tried to go back to sleep, something that's proven to be futile since I find myself glancing over at him, admiring him, which causes me to want him that much more.

For the last ten minutes, I've been on my side facing Harm, watching him sleep, wanting to wake him, yet not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber.

However, the more I look at him, the harder is it is for me to resist him.

He's on his back, the blanket up only high enough to cover the pajama pants that I know that he wore to bed, leaving his shirtless top half an open invitation for me to view.

Looking over his bare torso, I get the urge to touch him, but I manage to resist.

Focusing on the lines created by well-defined muscles, I think of recent mornings when, because Patty doesn't sleep through the night - something that the doctor says may continue for months longer than it did with Matthew because of her prematurity - it seems that I've barely gotten to sleep when his alarm goes off, and I haven't hidden my annoyance at his discipline of getting up early to do some form of exercise. However, this morning, I'm _very_ appreciative of the hours that he spends keeping in shape.

Having had dreams that I awoke in his bed for the better part of nine years, I extend my arm until the pads of my fingers make contact with his skin, confirming that I'm not dreaming now. He's really here in bed with me. This is really my life!

Not wanting to wake him, I retract my hand, but still drawn to his physical presence, I inch my body closer to him.

My move doesn't wake him, but it does cause him to stir.

In his sleep, he must assume that I was changing to a more comfortable sleeping position because he quickly settles. In turn, since he didn't move away from me, I assume that he has no objection to my closer proximity.

I know that I've been less interested in lovemaking since he told me that he'd given legal advice to a former girlfriend. It isn't that I was angry with him. It's just that I needed time to ponder the reason or reasons why that news upset me.

I place my hand on his chest with the intent of lying beside him until his alarm goes off.

With my palm sitting near the middle of his chest, my fingers, as if they have a mind of their own, begin to play with the strands of dark hair there.

The closeness of our bodies and the sight of his toned torso ... they're having an affect on me: my nipples are hardening and my breasts are becoming warm.

I lean forward to place a feather-light kiss on his collar bone close to his shoulder and then a second kiss with the intent of kissing along that line up to his neck.

As I move to place kiss number three, my hand starts a descent down his chest and over his abdomen until it reaches the edge of the blanket where it stops as if losing it's nerve to go farther. However, it isn't a lack of courage, but rather me not wanting to wake him that prevented my hand from continuing on it's journey.

In direct oposition to my growing desire to be with him, the voice of consideration inside my head screams, "Get out of bed now!"

Knowing that leaving the bed is the only way to keep me from waking him, I draw a deep breath and force myself to begin moving away from him, but my shift in weight causes him to stir again.

Thinking that he'll settle as quickly as he did moments ago, I continue to move slowly towards the edge of the bed, hoping that a cool shower will ebb my need. However, before I've moved out of his reach, he grasps my arm.

"Hey, don't stop yet. At least wait until I'm awake enough to return the favor," he says in a husky voice laced with sleep as his eyelids flutter and then open fully, his eyes meeting mine.

His eyes, his voice ... they won't be my undoing, but they do send the temperature of my breasts up another few degrees and cause a warming sensation between my legs.

I move back to his side and again begin a series of light kisses along his collar bone in the same manner as I'd done earlier.

This time I complete my mission and reach his neck where I begin to trail kisses up to his ear and then along his jaw line until my lips have reached his mouth.

Our lips come together, barely touching before his fingers begin to comb through my hair.

As the fingers of one hand weave themselves into my hair, his other hand snakes around me until his arm encircles me, pulling me to him before my tongue slides effortlessly between his slightly parted lips.

With only the thin fabric of my nightgown keeping our skin from touching, I wonder if he can feel the heat of my breasts or if it's an internal warmth that he can't feel, thus leaving him clueless as to how much I want him.

Thinking more of my own needs at the moment, I slide my palm down his side as our tongues dance in his mouth.

My hand doesn't stop at the edge of the blanket this time, but slides under it, breaching the waistband of his pajama pants until it reaches the barometer of how ready he is to satisfy my longing.

Pleased that he's wearing only his pajama pants, my palm soon discovers that he's firm but not yet hard, meaning that I won't have long to wait before he's as ready to enter me as I am to receive him.

Pulling back slightly, he mumbles against my lips, "No reason to rush."

Apparently he doesn't share my sense of urgency, but then, until two minutes and thirty-nine seconds ago, he was asleep.

I allow our current kiss to come to a natural end before sitting up.

Tugging at the knee-length nightgown that I have on, I respond breathlessly, "Hot and fast now." Having raised the garment, I lift it over my head, adding, "Gentle and slow next time."

**HARM'S POV**

"Hot and fast now," she says as she works impatiently to rid herself of her nightgown.

I have to say that the hormones of pregnant or post-partum women can certainly work in a man's favor.

"Gentle and slow next time," she adds.

Did she just say "next time" as in she's talking about a second time this morning?

'I must not have heard her correctly. After all, she said it with a nightgown covering her face, which could've distorted her words,' I rationalize.

It isn't that the idea doesn't interest or excite me, but it's been a long time since we've had the luxury of time for either of us to suggest that we do it more than once, and frankly, I have to wonder if, at my age, I'll be able to perform again so quickly. Another time today, no problem, but I'm not sure about twice in the same setting.

Realizing as she straddles me - below the waist, but above my growing desire - that concern over a second time will only take away from the moment, I refocus my thoughts on satisfying her now.

She leans forward until her breasts are pressed against my chest. The circles of heat on my skin that emanate from the soft mounds make me wonder if she's closer to being ready for joining than I am or if the heat is simply the byproduct of her being a nursing mother with an infant who'll soon be awake and ready for breakfast.

She places a kiss in the niche were my collar bone meets my neck.

Her trail of kisses down my sternum and abdomen, along with the rocking of her pelvis as she inches her way down my body in order to place a kiss at a lower point, is working to bring me closer to being ready.

Her line of kisses having reached the waistband of my pajama pants, I'm not surprised to feel her fingers curling around the top of them in an open display of trying to rid me of the only garment that's separating her from the part of me that she seems to have an urgent need for this morning.

Cooperating with her by lifting my hips, she soon disappears under the covers, taking my pajamas down my legs as she goes until she's accomplished their complete removal.

Having rid me of my pants, I find it odd that she's staying under the covers near my feet.

The changing lumps in the blanket show me that she's moving, but she isn't touching me, so I'm not sure what she's doing down there.

Moments later, her hands begin to glide up the sides of my legs as she begins to make her way back up my body.

Then her hand wraps around my growing arousal a fraction of a second before her head emerges from under the covers.

Looking up at my face, her words come out between breathless pants, "I need you."

I don't know what led her to be in this state, but her intent is clear as she gently and lovingly begins to stroke me.

Reversing the direction of the path that she'd taken a short time ago, she begins to apply feathery kisses over my abdomen and up my sternum until our lips are reunited.

With her body stretched out along my side, I'm now privy to what she spent time doing under the covers - she removed her underwear.

Her ministrations have done what she wanted them to do, and I've become harder with each stroke.

Having reached a full erection, I'm not only ready to satisfy her need, but my own, as well.

I rub my hand along her arm until she receives the message and releases her hold on me.

After allowing our latest kiss to come to a natural close, she rolls onto her back, which is my cue that she wants me to be on top.

Quickly following her unspoken directions, I'm soon in a position above her and ready to enter her.

With minimal foreplay, I fear that she isn't physically ready. However, as I slowly begin to enter her, I find that she's very wet and ready to receive me.

With no concern that entry will be painfully dry for her, I push my fully erect length quickly into her.

In response, she lets out a moan of pleasure.

I pull back and push into her again.

This time, she lifts her hips to meet me, sending me deeper inside her and forcing a moan of pleasure to escape my lips.

With my full length once again inside her, she wraps her legs around my thighs and, between pants, she pleads, "Harder, faster ... ple-e-ease."

Pulling out completely this time, I thrust myself inside her as instructed and then pull back only to push my full length inside her again.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, yes!" she says in a throaty growl, tightening her legs around me as I thrust myself into her three more times in quick succession.

Having established a rhythm that meets with her approval, I continue to keep that pace and, with my next push inside her, she arches her back, and the spasms of her inner walls around me sends a tingling pleasure coursing through my body.

I won't be able to hold on for much longer.

She's meeting each of my thrusts with equal vigor.

Her inner walls close tighter on me with each entry, and ohs and ahs of a woman near the brink of ecstacy are beginning to flow from her mouth.

She isn't going to need for me to hang on for too much longer. She's almost there herself.

Three more thrusts into her, and I can't hold on any longer.

With my next push into her, we both experience the light-headed euphoria of going over the edge.

Sated, we move into a post-coital cuddle, me on my back, and her snuggled into my side with her head resting on my chest.

Still breathless, I ask, "What happened that caused my Mackenzie-model alarm clock to work this morning?"

"Are you complaining?" she asks. Then she nervously starts to draw circles on my abdomen while waiting for me to answer.

"Oh, no, I'm not complaining one bit. I just thought that, if you could tell me what brought it on, I could duplicate the circumstances to enjoy this kind of wake up more often."

"I'm sorry, but I don't have any idea what put me in the mood," she replies apologetically.

"No reason to be sorry. I was just curious. I'm just relieved that you're over being upset with me."

"I wasn't upset with you. It's the situation. You having anything to do with a CIA, 'need to know' kind of person means that I can't be involved, and that bothers me."

"That's what bothers you?" I question skeptically, not believing that it's the only reason why she got upset.

She lifts her head to look me in the eye before stately defensively, "Well, that's the main reason. Though, since you're going to force me to say it, it doesn't help that you married her, no matter the legality of the act." She pauses less than a heartbeat. "I trust you, but I don't trust her. I'm sure that you think that it's splitting hairs, being silly or caused by post-partum hormones, but -"

"No, I don't think anything of the sort. I know that I'd feel the same way about the situation if you told me that Webb came to you, for assistance." I say with understanding, cutting her off.

She looks relieved that I can see things from her perspective and moves to once again rest her head on my chest while I continue to speak.

"To tell you the truth, you aren't the only one who's a little aprehensive about Catherine's visit. She asked me to update her will and draw up papers giving her brother control of her daughter's trust fund, making him her legal guardian in the event that something happens to her. She told me that she came to me because she knew that she could trust me, but nothing that she asked me to handle was complicated in any way. So, though I have no evidence, I just don't believe that '"trust" is the only reason why she came to see me."

"Your time on the dark side has made you suspicious, my love," she says in a tone reminiscent of an actresses in an old mystery movie. "Of course, when dealing with the CIA, being suspicious is a good thing."

"I drew up the papers and met with her yesterday. She signed them and took her copies, so what led her to ask me to do it doesn't really matter now. It's done."

"I guess," she says before taking a deep breath.

Hearing the disbelief in her voice, not that I blame her since anytime that the CIA gets near us, we seem to get sucked into something, I decide to change the subject.

"Did you talk to Harriet about Ty, Abigail and Patty being able to stay with her on Monday while you're in court if the weather keeps my parents and grandmother in Pennsylvania longer than expected?"

"Yes, and of course she said to bring them _all_ over, but I told her that it wasn't necessary since you could take Sami and Matthew to daycare," Mac answers somewhat distractedly.

"What?" I ask, rubbing the arm that she has draped over me.

"Talking about needing a babysitter if they aren't back yet makes me think of how upset Abigail is going to be if they get stuck on the farm and don't get here to attend her performance at the hospital tomorrow ... not to mention how heartbroken all the kids will be if they can't get here for Christmas," Mac explains.

I can hear the sadness in her voice as she gives thought to how upset our children will be if the extended family doesn't make it here for Christmas.

"When they called last night, they said that the storm that had dumped the snow had moved on and that plows were out doing clean up, so they hoped to leave sometime today, which would mean that they'll be here for both Abigail's performance and Christmas, so I wouldn't worry that our children will be disappointed."

"I hope you're right," she sighs.

Knowing that she's going to dwell on the happiness of the holidays for our children and feeling recovered enough to start that second round that she mentioned earlier, to distract her from those thoughts, I roll us over and lower my head until I can easily start a trail of kisses from just under her ear and along her jaw line until I reach her lips.

Moments later, while in a tongue-tangling, soul-searching, searing kiss, the alarm clock buzzes and Patty wails for breakfast simultaneously.

Abruptly ending the kiss, I pull back to find that Mac is smiling in a half-apologetic, half-laughing sort of way.

"Sorry," she says before having to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

The thought running through my head is: 'Obviously, the reason why I had any doubt that I might not be up for a second round was because I can't remember the last time when we had time to even make an attempt at an encore.'

"I'll go get Patty so you can get ready for your run," Mac says, eyeing me because I haven't made a move to get up.

Having recovered from my initial disappointment, I reply, "Whether she's with Harriet or my mother, she's going to have to take a few more bottles than she'd like, so why don't I get her used to the idea by feeding her this morning and giving you a few minutes for yourself?"

"Sounds wonderful and good for me, but what about your run and breakfast for our other children?"

"I was thinking that I'd skip the workout this morning to spend time with my baby girl. Then, once I have her changed and her belly full, I thought I'd try to cheer up the rest of the bunch by making my famous animal-shaped pancakes for breakfast," I reply as get out of bed.

"You're such a good dad," she says, having followed me out of bed and now standing beside me.

I reach for her and take her naked form into my arms. Then, with a waggle of my eyebrows while glancing in the direction of the bed, I say, "I was looking forward to showing you what else I'm good at."

"I'm willing to give you the opportunity tonight," she says as her fingertips "walk" up my bare chest.

Leaning in to kiss her, another louder burst of wailing coming through the baby monitor tells me that my baby girl is growing impatient waiting for her breakfast, so I release the hold that I have on my wife and reach for my pajama pants.

"...If our children cooperate," she adds as I begin to dress and she moves towards the bathroom.

It's my turn to offer a response that's half-apologetic and half-laughing.

**LIVING ROOM**

**1415**

**MAC'S POV**

The phone had rung at ten minutes before nine. It had been Frank calling to tell me that they were loading up the car and would be leaving the farm soon.

I didn't tell Sami about the call because I didn't want her to be disappointed if road conditions or weather forced them to turn around and go back to the farm or if they had to stop and hold up along their route to wait for the roads to be cleared.

Okay, it wasn't just for Sami's benefit. It was also for mine. I didn't want to hear 'how much longer until they get here?' questions until they'd arrived.

I've received hourly updates as they've traveled this way, and though it's taken an hour longer than normal, their slow and steady pace has paid off because, when Trish called seven minutes ago, she said that they were safe and sound and about ten minutes from the house.

Sami was just waking up from her nap when they called last, so I didn't tell her about that call either. I think that she'll really enjoy being surprised, and with Matthew still napping, and Ty and Abigail at school, the fact that she'll be the sole owner of their attention upon their arrival will make her over the moon.

**1420**

Sitting with Sami in the living room, the sound of the door opening sends her flying off the couch and running towards the front of the house, gleefully declaring, "Daddy's home!"

"No running in the house, Samantha," I say sternly, waiting for the squeal of delight when she finds out that it isn't Harm.

"Gee Gee! Grandma! Grandpa!" I hear echo through the house, and then I hear the cries of a one-year old who I'm not sure was finished with his nap or if his sister woke him with her excitement.

Knowing that Sami will keep her grandparents entertained for a few minutes, I head to the nursery in order to soon return to the living room with another of our children for them to smother with attention.

**1540**

With the extended family gone and to take one job off of Harm's shoulders, Harriet and I began an afternoon car pool.

One week, I pick up AJ and Jimmy with Ty and Abigail, and the next week, she picks up the four children. This is Harriet's week, and Frank has been pacing the living room as he anxiously awaits Tyler's arrival.

I'm sure that Frank wants to see Abigail, too, but Frank and Ty have a close relationship, and having been separated from him for the past three weeks seems to have caused Frank some distress, and Tyler, too, for that matter.

At last, Tyler and Abigail bounce through the door and, as expected, Ty runs to Frank.

"Grandpa, you're finally here!" As the two embrace, Ty adds, "Today was my last day of school until after the first of the year, so we can spend every day together."

"Yes we can," Frank says happily in response.

Rushing to Trish, Abigail looks near tears as she says, "I didn't think that you were going to get here in time, but you made it. Now you're going to be able to hear me play."

"Wild horses couldn't keep us from being there, my sweet girl," Trish says as she takes our little princess into her arms.

After the happy reunion, Abigail and Tyler greet and hug their other grandparent and then ask about Gee Gee, who, against my suggestion that she rest and relax, is in the kitchen trying to decide what she'll fix for dinner.

As Ty and Abigail bounce off happily to see their great grandmother, I make a mental note that Harm and I need to talk to his grandmother about working out a compromise of letting her do enough that she feels that she's being useful and contributing to the family without taking on too much.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2100**

**HARM'S POV**

Since Patty's first meal of the day was by bottle, it was important to Mac that she nurse her before tucking her in this evening, leaving me surprised to find her already in our bedroom when I exit the bathroom in my boxers.

"Patty all tucked in?" I ask, stepping farther into the bedroom.

"Yes, she seemed more sleepy than hungry, so I'm wondering if I'll be up twice during the night or just the usual one time," Mac answers, shrugging off her blouse.

"Then I'd better get you to bed ASAP," I say, stepping up to her with a devilish grin on my face.

As I wrap my arms around her waist, she responds with, "Oh, yes, we did have plans for tonight, didn't we?"

The sparkle in her eyes match her seductive smile, and I know that, even realizing that she might not get much sleep, she's interested in making love.

Accepting her unspoken invitation, I pull her in close to me as my lips meet hers in what will become a heated kiss and the start of our slow and gentle lovemaking session that we were cheated out of this morning when there were more pressing matters demanding our attention.


	28. Chapter 28

**PART SIX**

**SATURDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2008**

**KITCHEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME  
MANASSAS, VA**

**0615**

I knew that my grandmother would be already up, and suspecting that I'd find her in the kitchen, I decided to stop there to talk to her about not doing so much for us before I left for my run.

"Good morning, Grandma," I say sweetly as I move towards her at the counter.

"Good morning, Harm," she says, eyeing me cautiously and adding, "What's on your mind this morning?"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you've got a suspicious streak?" I ask while her eyes are fixed on me.

"Am I wrong?" she counters.

This tit-for-tat banter reminds me of talking to Mac.

They say that you marry a woman like your mother. In my case, I believe that I married a woman who reminds me of grandmother.

With Abigail's performance this afternoon and the Christmas Ball this evening, I shouldn't waste time hedging around what I want to say, so I don't volley another round. I just answer her question as simply as possible.

"No."

"Then I'm right, not suspicious," she replies with a grin.

After relishing being correct for a moment, she orders, "Just say what you have to say."

"Grandma..." I motion to the bowls and canister that she already has out on the counter. "...Mac and I really appreciate all that you did for us while I was recuperating and she was in the last weeks of her pregnancy ..." I state sincerely, "...but now that I'm at a hundred percent and Mac's had the baby, we want you to relax, enjoy your visit and not do so much around here," I explain.

"I don't mind. It makes me feel useful," she says, sounding hurt.

"I know. So, I'm not suggesting that you stop all together, but that you cut back," I say, sounding apologetic.

"How much of a cut-back are we talking here?" she asks curiously.

"Mac and I are flexible and open to negotiations," I state with a Rabb smile firmly in place, one that she's told me reminds her of her son, my father.

"You want to negotiate over coffee now or after your run?" she asks with a smile.

Twenty minutes later, we've reached an agreement, I've had my first cup of coffee and am jogging out the door to start my run.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**0725**

**MAC'S POV**

I roll over and come to rest in the space that Harm vacated when he got up to go for his morning run.

A moment later, my internal clock is setting off alarms. It's 0725, and I've overslept!

Harm and I have a system. He gets up when his alarm goes off and does his morning exercise. Given that it's winter and there's snow on the ground, it isn't great bicycling weather, so it's usually a run. If he knew that Patty had me up at one and four this morning to nurse and because it's the weekend, he would've waited until he was out of the shower, shaven and dressed before waking me, and then he would've left the room to allow me to wake fully and dress before waking our children while he went to start breakfast. That's been our routine Monday through Saturday. Sunday is the exception because I cook breakfast, and since it's usually the one day a week that his only exercise is playing with the children, I let him sleep in. The time may vary a little, but that's our routine, and it works for us.

Fear starts to take hold of me as I scramble to get out of bed as my mind starts to conjure up scenes of Harm lying somewhere along his route hurt and bleeding, and that's why he hasn't awakened me before now.

Having slipped on a robe, I stop at the bedroom door to take a deep, calming breath.

"No reason to get ahead of myself. There could be a very logical explanation that doesn't involve injury," I tell myself as I slowly let out the breath.

The moment that I open the bedroom door, the aroma of cinnamon fills my nostrils. It's the unmistakable smell of his grandmother's homemade cinnamon rolls.

Pushing the door closed, I retreat back into the bedroom to get dressed before venturing out of our room.

Then scolding myself, I say, "Just because they can't find your client's husband doesn't mean that anything's happened to him or to your husband. Don't let her case cause you to jump to conclusions. They're just letting everyone sleep in until the rolls are almost ready. Your life is good. Relax, MacKenzie! Everyone, everything is just fine. Well, everything other than either Harm or I will have to speak with his grandmother about her not doing as much for us this visit as she did during the last one."

Reaching the bathroom door, I add, "Of course, there's no reason that the talk can't wait until after we've enjoyed the cinnamon rolls that she's making this morning,"

**0745**

**HARM'S POV**

Usually when I return to the house after a morning workout, the house is quiet, but this morning I step through the front door and hear the sounds of the keyboard coming from the girls' room and laughter coming from the direction of the living room.

I shouldn't be surprised at my bustling household this morning given that, after the weather scare that made us wonder if my parents and grandmother would be able to be here for Christmas, the children were so excited by their arrival that I'll bet that they were up early on their own, happy and full of enthusiasm for a new day to begin.

Of course, it's hard not to be eager to start the day when you have such a full day planned, and although I'm not sure how fun the Ball will be tonight, it's still something to look forward to since I'll have a beautiful woman on my arm and, thanks to the arrival of family to stay with our children, we'll have no curfew and can dance the night away.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

I enter the bedroom on my way to the bathroom to take a shower, but discovering Mac sitting on the edge of the bed staring off into space alters my course.

"Mac, I talked to my grandmother this morning," I state, hoping that finding her sitting on the edge of the bed fully dressed is because she's thinking about how to broach the subject of my grandmother not helping out so much and not because something's happened.

"Good. Mattie called. I'd just hung up the phone before you walked in. She hasn't left Blacksburg."

From the lack of inquiry about how the talk with my grandmother went, I know that whatever Mattie said to Mac either upset her or made her worry. In either case, I need to know.

"She overslept again this week? I find that hard to believe since her last final was yesterday so she wouldn't have had a late night cram session," I reply, shaking my head in disbelief.

"No. She said that she wasn't feeling well and that she didn't want to pass it on to anyone else. Then she added that because your parents and grandmother got here two days later than planned, she thought that everyone would enjoy the extra family time and that she'd join us in a few days."

Mac's comments are troublesome, but I get the feeling that there's more.

"You told her that she's part of this family and that she should start her road trip, ASAP, right?" I question.

For the first time since I came into the room, Mac looks at me.

"I did ... though I'm not sure that it swayed her to drop everything and head this way. Then I reminded her that Abigail's performance is this afternoon and that we all told her that we'd be there to hear her play."

"Did that get her moving?" I ask, getting ready to reach for the phone to call Mattie if I get a negative answer.

"Yes, it seemed to do the trick. Before we hung up, she said that she'd head this way as soon as she could, but not to wait if we needed to leave before she got here and that she'd meet us at the hospital."

During her reply, she shifted her weight and folded her hands over each other and placed them in her lap, body language that suggests that there was more to their conversation.

"Is there something else?" I ask, unsure at this point if I should be concerned about Mattie.

"It's probably nothing. Earlier I was thinking that you were lying alongside the road half dead because you hadn't returned from your run to wake me yet, so I'm sure that my imagination is just running away with me again, and it's nothing. How did the talk with your grandmother go?"

I'm not feeling good about her shifting the conversation with a question tacked onto her answer about a completely different subject.

"Negotiations went well and an agreement has been reached. My grandma will make breakfast Monday through Friday with the exception of Christmas morning so that Frank can make his pancakes, which will give me more time to spend with you and the children or to workout before work. I'll cook breakfast on Saturdays, and that leaves you Sundays to make your French Toast. Figuring out lunches was a little trickier, but she suggested, and it'll be up to you to talk to her and agree that, unless you're working with a client, you'll be in charge of lunchtime while she takes a nap. Then, when it comes to dinner, she said that the breakfast schedule works for her, so she'll cook Monday through Friday, and I'll take the weekends."

"Sounds like she's still doing more than her fair share, but it's better than her cooking all three meals every day of the week," Mac states distractedly.

Mac's response let's me know that she heard me, but the lack of eye contact with me, combined with the tone of her voice, tells me that her mind is still on her concerns over Mattie.

"Mac?" I say her name like a question.

**MAC'S POV**

Since I've been cautioning him not to overreact to Mattie's mood swings and odd behavior of late, I hate to cause him any undo worry, especially when all I have is a feeling, but I can see by his expression that he knows that I'm holding back something.

He isn't likely to give up until I tell him something that makes sense, so I decide to share my suspicions with him.

"I have no facts to back it up, but I don't think that Mattie's sick, at least the kind of sick that's contagious." I hadn't planned for it to come out so bluntly, but I can't change how I said it now, so I'll just finish my thought - better just to get it all out at once. "I believe that she's the kind of sick that you get when you spend too much time with a bottle. I think she has a hangover."

"What makes you think that?" he asks calmly, but I can see the wheels in his head turning and I'm already feeling that I shouldn't have said anything until I had some facts.

"When I asked her what she meant when she said that she was feeling ill, she didn't mention having a sore throat, yet her voice was raspy like it was dry. Then there's the fact that she said that she had a bad headache and an upset stomach. Maybe I'm projecting my own life on her because I've used the excuse of being 'sick' a few times."

I pause, and silence fills the room.

He's processing what I've said, and I'm re-evaluating the information.

Before speaking, I stand and face him.

Once we've made eye contact, I say, "Harm, I know that she isn't me, but my gut says that she got drunk last night, and given her out-of-character behavior lately, she may have a problem."

"If your instincts say that she was drinking last night, is it okay that mine say that _we_ should go to Blacksburg to check on her ... or would I be overreacting?" Harm questions.

"I'd say that you'd be thinking exactly what I'm thinking and that, if it weren't for the fact that I talked to her and know that she's okay for now, I'd already be on my way out there. However, because she gave me the impression that she was going to come here today, and because of our commitments to Abigail and the SecNav, I say that if she doesn't show today, we_ will _be going to Blacksburg tomorrow!"

He offers me an appreciative smile before he speaks.

"You know, you could be right and wrong," he begins as he lifts his arms and places his hands on my shoulders. "Since I'm sure that there was some kind of end of the term party, or maybe they called it a Christmas party, you're right because she went and had a few drinks. She may have even gotten drunk, but you're wrong because it happened only this one time."

"Do you really believe that?" I ask in a tone that says that I don't.

"I want to ..." His voice trails off.

As if he needed a moment to gather his strength, he begins again.

"However, her drinking would explain a few things: the decline in her grades, her odd behavior in that she seems to be pulling away from the family and her interest in that boy who wasn't her usual type of guy, so, if she _has_ got a problem, I don't want to ignore it."

"I agree, which means that, even if she makes it home today, one of us needs to talk to her."

"Shouldn't we both talk to her?" he asks.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. With both of us there, it might seem to her as if we're cross-examining her rather than checking in with her, and since I do still want to give her the benefit of the doubt that getting drunk was, at most, a one time event, not a habit for her, I think that only one of us should talk to her."

"You could be right about that." He sighs heavily. "I wonder which came first, the drinking or that boy, Kyle," he says as he pulls me into an embrace.

"I don't know, but that may be a question that you need to ask her when you speak to her."

"Me? Don't you think that you'd be the better choice to talk to her?" he asks.

"She can accuse me of trying to draw parallels between her life and mine based on a few commonalities. She can't do that with you. That's why, though I'm willing to talk with her about my experiences, I believe that you need to speak with her first. I also don't think that speaking with her today will do any good. Given her attitude over the phone, she may need a day or two with her family before she'll open up to anyone ... but you definitely need to talk to her while she's home for the holidays."

"It's going to be hard to wait and see, but I'll try," he says.

"I hope I'm wrong," I say softly.

"Me, too, but I've learned that your instincts are usually right on, so I'm going to have to talk to her, and soon."

"Well, we've got plenty to do today to keep our minds off of Mattie until we know whether or not she shows up for Abigail's performance today."

"Yes, we do," he agrees.

"Then you go take your shower, and I"ll meet you in the kitchen."

He places his lips on mine and administers a short, sweet kiss.

When he pulls his lips away from mine, he says, "I love you, but you'd better not eat my cinnamon roll."

"I'll try not to, but if you take too long to shower, I can't promise anything. They're always so good that it's hard for me to resist them."

We both laugh. Then, after exchanging a quick kiss, he heads to the bathroom, and I leave the bedroom feeling a little lighter for having shared my concerns for Mattie with him.

**KITCHEN**

**0900**

**HARM'S POV**

Having enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of a warm cinnamon roll, orange juice and coffee while chatting with my family, I'm feeling very relaxed until the phone rings, causing me to immediately become tense.

"I'll get it. If it's Mattie calling with another excuse, I want to talk to her this time," I say firmly as I pass my dirty plate and coffee mug to Mac to place into the dishwasher.

Irritated by who I believe is calling, or more correctly put, why she's calling, I don't bother to look at the caller ID. I simply press the 'talk' button and say into the handset of the cordless phone, "Hello," in a tone that should indicate without discussing it that I'm not going to be open to talking about her _not_ coming home today.

"Harm, I'm sorry to bother you at home."

The woman is almost whispering so I don't recognize her voice.

"This is Catherine. I need to meet with you," she says a little more distinctly.

"You can come by my office any time that's convenient for you on Monday, and we can talk about any changes that you want to make to the documents that I prepared for you," I reply in a business tone of voice.

Mac has stopped loading the dishwasher, and her eyes are fixed on me.

"I don't think that I have until Monday. I need to see you today!" Catherine says, sounding desperate.

There are two important events scheduled to take place today, Abigail's performance and the Christmas Ball - one that I don't _want_ to miss, and the other one that I was ordered to attend - that I _can't_ miss, but Catherine's tone suggests that she's in some kind of trouble and I can't just tell her no, especially since I feel that I owe her for putting me in touch with the right people to get Mac home from Paraguay.

Not wanting to come off sounding ungrateful for her help in the past, I say, "I have several things today that I can't reschedule."

"Please, Harm. I'm ... I have a problem. I need your help," Catherine pleads.

"I have a few hours before I have to be somewhere. Could we meet now?" I ask.

Mac's eyes narrow disapprovingly, and she's eyeing me in a way that says that, if I'm leaving the house, it had better be for a good reason.

"Yes, but I'm not at home. I'm at the Shadowlands Motel. It's at ..."

I turn my back to Mac in order to reach for a pen and paper to jot down the address, and I can feel Mac's eyes pinned on me in a way that I'm sure is better than the livid look that she's going to give me when, not only do I leave, but she asks who I'm going to meet and I give her the answer.

**SHADOWLANDS MOTEL**

**ALONG THE INTERSTATE**

**VIRGINIA **

**1020**

When I got off the phone and told Mac that I had to leave to meet with a client, I suspect that she didn't ask the name of the client because she knew who it was. The only question that she did ask was, "Is meeting with this person worth the risk of not seeing your daughter perform in the variety show?"

After explaining that, from the sound of her voice, it was important that I go now, Mac said only one more sentence. She made a request.

"Then, before you leave, tell the children that you have to go to work."

When I told the children that I had to go to work for a little while, Abigail's concern as expressed through her voice and the sadness in her eyes that I'd miss hearing her play the piano for the wounded soldiers at the hospital made me want to call Catherine back and tell her that, whatever problem she had, it could wait until Monday or at least tomorrow. However, the distress and urgency in Catherine's voice that had changed to relief when I'd said that I'd meet with her caused me not to cancel our meeting.

Pulling into the parking lot of this old, run-down, two story motel set in a clearing of trees that kept it from being seen from the Interstate, I question if I wrote down the address correctly.

Seeing the name 'Shadowlands Motel' painted on a piece of wood that's filling the frame of what had once been a glass window in the office of this establishment tells me that I have the right place.

After getting out of the car, I take another look at the building with its faded and peeling paint and the missing balusters supporting the railing of the staircase leading up to the second story, and it has me wondering if Catherine has lost her sanity staying in a place like this, because this place looks like it could've doubled for the Bates Motel in the movie "Psycho".

Reaching the top of the stairs at the second floor landing, I pause momentarily to consider that the old wooden planks may not hold up when I walk across them, and then a round, bald man, slightly shorter than me, but who's at least eighty pounds heavier steps out of his room and onto the landing without a care about the structure.

If he isn't worried, then I shouldn't be, I think to myself before stepping onto the deck and turning right in search of the correct room number, the opposite direction as the man who could be a sumo wrestler if size was the only factor.

It takes two doors for me to establish that the room numbers are going up, not down, and that I need to go back and pass the stairs to find her room.

From the parking lot, this place looked like a motel that you'd see in horror movies, but with Catherine saying that she was staying here, I'd tried to give it the benefit of the doubt, but as I lift my arm to knock on the door to her room and having seen the dilapidation of the building and her neighbor up close, I have to once again ask myself, 'What is she doing staying in a place like this?'

I finally get a response from inside after I've knocked a second time.

"Who is it?"

"Harm," I answer.

A moment later, the door flies open, and she launches herself at me.

With her arms wrapped tightly around my neck and her face buried in my chest, I feel her trembling, but her embrace is too familiar for two people who are no longer a couple.

Feeling uncomfortable, but not wanting to upset her further, I place my hands at her waist and step back to put some space between us.

"I'm sorry. I was just so relieved to see you that I got carried away," she says, taking a step back so that there's now a more socially acceptable amount of distance between us.

"It isn't that," I say to cover just how uncomfortable I was feeling. "It's just that you said that you had a problem that couldn't wait until Monday, and I don't have a lot of time."

"Of course, come in," she says, stepping to the side to allow me entry.

Taking two strides into the room, I see a cockroach crawling up the wall, causing me to spin around and ask, "Why did you have me come out here to meet you?"

"I picked this motel because I understand that it's a good place to hide."

"What or who are you hiding from?" I ask.

"The police ... they want to arrest me."

"On what charge?" I ask, puzzled by her admission.

"Murder," she replies softly.

**TRAINING ROOM**

**WALTER REED MEDICAL CENTER**

**MAC'S POV**

With a raised platform where an instructor usually stands and a sound system to ensure that everyone in the expansive room is able to hear, this training room makes an excellent place for a variety show. The addition of the curtain partition, which, for Harriet's purpose, will allow her to ready the next two acts to take the stage, makes this a nearly perfect setting. The only drawback is that there isn't enough room backstage to hold all the acts, meaning that performers will have to sit up front where it will be easy to find them in order to move them backstage to get ready when it's nearing their turn.

Abigail is slated to go on fifth, so I'm sitting in the front row next to her waiting for her to be directed to go backstage while most of the rest of the family have taken seats near the back of the room so that as many spots as close to the stage as possible can be used for the guests of honor, the wounded servicemen and women. I say most of the family because, looking back for not the first time, I still don't see Harm or Mattie.

It's 1359, and Harriet is taking center stage to do a quick sound check before addressing the audience - the wounded who've been deemed well enough to attend and their families - to start the show.

I'm about to take another look back to see if either of my MIA family members have arrived when Abigail whispers, "Daddy still isn't here."

I take a quick look over my shoulder, but he isn't there, so I lean over to give my little girl a hug. "Don't worry. He still has a few minutes."

Trying to keep my mind off how upset I am that Harm is disappointing our little girl, I'm focused on the first act, a local singer who's belting out "Winter Wonderland" when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I know two things before I look. First, it isn't Harm because he would've caressed my shoulder instead of tapping it, and I just know when he's near and I don't have that feeling. I also know that, with only the first act having taken the stage, it's too soon for someone to be telling us that it's time to move to the staging area.

I turn slightly to find that it's Mattie.

Once she knows that she has my attention, she leans over and whispers in my ear, "I just wanted to let you know that I'm here."

Not wanting to make too big a production of greeting Mattie and not wanting to risk talking above a whisper, which would distract from Harriet, who's now on stage announcing the second act, I simply pat Abigail on the knee and, happy that I have an outside aisle seat, I stand and motion for Mattie to take my place.

The moment that Abigail sees her big sister, she begins to smile, though it isn't a bright smile that reaches her eyes.

Mattie slips into the chair, and she and Abigail embrace as Mattie whispers something to her while I stand against the wall that runs along the side.

With the second act, another singer on stage, one of the Giving Thanks By Giving Back volunteers who's helping with the show comes to inform us that it's our turn to head backstage.

I nod and extend my hand, which Abigail takes after hugging her sister one more time and, together, we walk backstage.

When the curtain is pulled back as the magician, the third act comes off stage, Abigail gets a good look at the audience as she'll see them when she's on stage.

"I can't go out there," Abigail says, her voice trembling.

"Why, sweetheart?" I ask, hiding how upset I am with Harm for not being here for her.

"There are so many hurt people out there," she says sadly.

Harm and I did talk to her about the fact that the audience today would be current patients at the hospital, and that some would have IV's or bandages, maybe even cuts or bruises that she could see before we agreed to let her play here today, but I guess that talking about it and seeing it are two different things.

With Harriet out on stage to introduce the fourth act, a comedian, Abigail is next to perform - and still no Harm.

The man who's been introduced dashes from behind the curtain at the sound of applause, and Harriet pops backstage, allowing him to be on stage alone.

"Abigail, you're up next," Harriet says, to which Abigail bursts into tears.

"She's feeling a bit nervous," I say apologetically.

"We have a lot of musical acts, so I tried to put the better ones between non-musical acts. Let me look at the schedule to see if I can get someone else to go on now and, if she's feeling better when their number comes up, she can play then," Harriet says, stepping away.

"Princess, are you sick?" The question comes from our right.

"Daddy!" Abigail exclaims, probably loudly enough to be heard by the audience as she launches herself at her dad.

Seeing him hugging her, I'm so happy and relieved that he's here that it manages to wash away how upset I was with him just twenty seconds ago.

Staring down at the clipboard in her hand without looking up, Harriet announces, "Abigail, I moved you into the eighth spot for now. I'll check on you in a few minutes to see if you're feeling better."

"Aunt Harriet, I'm all better now," she replies happily, causing Harriet to look up.

Seeing Abigail in Harm's arms, Harriet smiles.

"If you're better, do you want me to tell the other act to take their time getting ready and let you go on next?"

"If it isn't too much trouble, I want to play now that my daddy's here."

"No problem. I'll just send someone to tell them," she begins before tapping on the ear piece that she has in her ear. "I'm being told that it's time to introduce you."

With our daughter going out on stage, Harm and I exit the staging area to take seats in the audience.

**WILLARD HOTEL**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**2200**

This wonderful party is helping to make the phone call that had Harm leaving the house this morning and nearly missing our talented daughter's performance feel more like a bad dream.

I know that Harm was doing his job to some extent, but there was a nagging voice inside my head that was saying the entire time that I was waiting for him to show up at the hospital for the show, "He works for the Navy, the SecNav. Representing this particular client is _not_ his job. He chose to take this case."

"A penny for your thoughts," Harm says, pulling me from my reverie.

"I was just thinking about how wonderful it is to be here with you. We haven't been out, just the two of us, in quite awhile."

**HARM'S POV**

"No, we haven't," I say in agreement before saying something that should let me know if she's going to like the Christmas present that I have for her. "I'm enjoying having you all to myself. It makes me want to whisk you away for the weekend."

"You ... me ... some place warm, sounds wonderful."

I know that, with today almost a memory and Christmas less than five days away, she'd never say, "Let's go". However, her response does suggest that she's going to enjoy the Christmas present that I'm giving her - a New Year's weekend trip to the Bahamas.

I pull her in a little closer to me thinking about how soon she and I will be back on the island where we spent our honeymoon and thinking about how nice it will be for me to have her undivided attention for the weekend.

We continue to dance in silence until the current song that's playing comes to an end.

I release my hold on her and, as we clap for the band, she says, "If it's okay with you, I'd like to get something to drink."

"Fine with me," I say, delighted that the tension that had been created when I went to meet Catherine, which nearly caused me to miss Abigail's flawless performance of her two Christmas songs, seems to be gone.

**OUTSIDE THE WILLARD**

**MAC'S POV**

Seven minutes ago everything was perfect. I was in my husband's arms dancing the night away. Then I suggested that we get something to drink, which took us away from the music where he could hear his cell phone, and now we're outside waiting for the valet to bring our car around.

Catherine Gale had called and left a voice mail.

She's been arrested and needs her attorney.

Snaking his arm around my waist, Harm says, "I'm sorry about this, Mac." Then he tries to kiss me.

I turn my head, and his lips graze my cheek.

**SUNDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2008**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME  
MANASSAS, VA**

**0157**

**HARM'S POV**

I come into the room as quietly as possible, figuring that Mac will be asleep.

As I begin to undress in the dark room, she says softly, "Harm ... you've been gone a lot longer than I thought you would be. Did everything go all right?"

Her time at home alone to think about the situation has calmed her.

"No, the judge wouldn't agree to bail at any amount, so she's still in custody."

"Doesn't that surprise you?" she asks curiously.

"On a murder charge, not really," I reply.

"That isn't what I was hinting at. Why hasn't the CIA interceded on her behalf? They certainly swept my killing of Sadik under the rug. Why wouldn't they do the same for one of their own?"

There's a hint of worry in her voice now.

"Funny that you should mention that because, when I suggested that she call Webb and have him vouch for her to the court to get the judge to set bail, she was very adamant that I wasn't to call him or speak with him about her...and you didn't see the out-of-the-way, hole-in-the-wall motel where I met her this morning. It wasn't the kind of place where she'd usually stay, so I can't believe that the police could find her that quickly. Yet Catherine tells me that she was arrested a little over an hour after I left her, suggesting to me that the police were tipped off to her location."

"Maybe you were followed there," Mac offers as a possibility.

"Which begs the question, who'd think to follow me unless they knew that she'd come to my office recently? Who'd be tracking her movements and why?"

"Considering her employer, the list could be a long one," she states absentmindedly.

I'm not sure that she even meant to voice that thought.

"Catherine has said that it's personal, not work related, but at the same time, she hasn't been very forthcoming with information about her case, which has me wondering if the company is involved, if not directly, indirectly. It's even crossed my mind that someone within the organization wants her to take the fall for this murder."

Having stripped down to my boxers I climb into bed.

"Harm, if her employer is involved in her situation, she could be putting you in danger." Her voice is full of concern for my safety.

Settling into bed, I reach for her.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," I say, pulling her to me.

Now too worried about me to be upset with me, she snuggles into my side and, after placing a kiss on her forehead and whispering good night to her, exhausted, I quickly fall to sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

**PART SEVEN **

**MONDAY, DECEMBER 22, 2008**

**DIRECTOR KERSHAW'S OFFICE**

**CIA HEADQUARTERS**

**0900**

**KERSHAW'S POV**

"I hope that you didn't get too comfortable in my chair while I was away, Tomlin," I say. It's my way of letting the man who I left in charge know that I'm aware that he has his sights set on my job.

"No, Sir," he responds sheepishly, a sure sign of his deceit before he asks, "How was your trip?"

"Informative...seems that Agent Webb's Intel on this one was spot on."

"First time for everything, hey, Sir?" he says with a sardonic smile.

"I wouldn't sell him too short. He's had good missions and bad, just like the rest of us who've spent time in the field, and since his father was in the business, who knows? It may put him at the head of the pack to take my place some day."

Tomlin's head twitches to the left. It's a tick that I've noticed of late with him. I'm not sure if it's a neurological problem or stress related.

"I have more administrative knowledge, and I've been handling things for you and filling in when you have to be away for more than a year now," Tomlin says, defending his right to be the top contender for my job.

"No reason to plead your case with me. I won't be the one who makes the decision of who replaces me, and with any luck, the position won't be open for a long time. So, let's get down to business. What updates do you have for me?"

"Since we spoke on Friday, I don't have much in the way of updates, Sir, but there is one thing that I didn't think was important enough to tell you while you were away, but now that you're back at your desk, I should tell you that Ms. Gale requested an immediate leave of absence. She said that she needed some time to sort out a few personal issues."

"You granted her request?" I ask.

"Even though she left her return date open-ended, since she isn't the only lawyer who we have on staff, I did."

"She may not be the only one, but she's the best one," I state firmly.

I'm about to agree that, though I hate to see her take time off so unexpectedly, since she didn't take any bereavement leave after her mother died, her request may be overdo, but Tomlin speaks before I have a chance to continue.

"That explains why she was able to have an agent's baby and stay with the company," Tomlin says with a sneer.

His loathing is evident by his tone, but I'm unclear as to its source. Is it Ms Gale, the situation or me because I didn't push for answers?

"Not that I have to defend my decisions to you, but _if _you're going to sit behind this desk one day, you need to understand that, without any reason to suspect that Ms. Gale was associating with a terrorist, I nor this agency had no need to know the identity of the father of her child. As far as the rumors are concerned, they are merely that - rumors - and we don't discipline our people based on water cooler gossip." I was going to end my rant there, but decide to tack on one more little piece of information. "I'll also remind you to read the manual again because, on closer inspection of the policy, it states that two _agents_ cannot be involved in an ongoing relationship. Ms. Gale is _not_ an agent! Thus, even if the rumor is true and an agent fathered her child, neither would be in violation of policy. Have I made my reasons for not investigating this matter clear to you, Tomlin?"

"Yes, Sir," he stutters in reply.

I've made my point and I'm ready to move on to the next item of business, making a mental note to give Catherine the holidays to collect herself and then give her a call after the first of the year to see how she's doing.

**TUESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2008**

**DODGE HOUSE RESTAURANT**

**ARLINGTON, VA**

**1202**

**HARM'S POV**

I was pleased to hear my wife's voice on the phone between ten and half past the hour. The fact that she was calling to invite me to lunch made it even better.

I needed a good reason to take a break from studying the notes, case files, witness lists and other such items that the DA's office had sent over yesterday afternoon pertaining to the murder of Eva Levine, and what could be better than taking time out to have lunch with your lovely wife?

Judging from the western theme of the restaurant that I've just entered, I have to wonder how court went for her this morning.

Reaching the hostess stand, I catch sight of a salad bar. Good, I won't go hungry.

"Hello, Sir. Your party is waiting for you. Right this way," the hostess says with a beaming smile.

'How did she know that I was here to meet with someone?' I wonder as I follow the woman.

We pass the salad bar and two tables before the hostess comes to a stop.

"See, I told you that the man for whom I was waiting would be easy to spot," Mac says proudly.

"Yes, Ma'am, you did, but then your description of him was perfect," the hostess replies with a bright smile. "I'll let your waitress know that the rest of your party has arrived, Ma'am."

"Thank you," Mac says as I slip into the chair across the table from her.

As the hostess walks away, I ask, "Just how did you describe me...tired looking old guy?"

"No, I told the hostess that the man who I was waiting to dine with was in the Navy and would be wearing dress blues, but that not just any sailor would do. Mine was tall, dark and handsome."

I reach for her hand.

"Oh, flattery, Mrs. Rabb, will get you almost anywhere with me," I state before placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Are you ready to order now?" the waitress questions, stepping up to our table and interrupting our moment of flirtation.

"We are," Mac responds and immediately begins to order. "I'd like to start with the sampler appetizer and then the luncheon rib eye platter with baked potato."

"What dressing would you like for your salad?"

"Whatever you have that's low-calorie."

I roll my eyes. She orders half the menu, and then she wants diet dressing on her salad. Really?

"Raspberry vinaigrette or light ranch?" The waitress asks.

"The vinaigrette."

"To drink, Ma'am?"

"Just water is fine for me," Mac says, pointing to the glass already on the table.

"For you, Sir?" the waitress asks, and I realize that I was too busy listening to Mac order to look over the menu.

She apparently understands my dazed look and orders for me.

"He'll have the veggie wrap and a diet coke," Mac says, looking at me with a smug 'I know what you like' look on her face.

"I'll bring your soda, Sir, right after I put in the order for the appetizer," the waitress says while picking up our menus.

As the woman steps away from our table, I ask Mac with an 'I know you well, too,' expression, "So, tell me, is the lunch you just ordered to celebrate your victory or drown your sorrows after your morning in court?"

Her smile begins to widen as she answers, "I'm celebrating!"

"Did you have complete success and get all the charges dismissed?" I ask.

"I did," she replies just as my drink arrives.

"Since you met with the DA and he refused to drop the charges, tell me how you managed to get the charges dismissed."

"Don't you want to talk about something else?" she asks skeptically.

"No, I want to hear how my wife wowed them in court today," I say proudly.

"First, I argued that the prosecution had no case," she begins reluctantly. "I told them that my client wasn't negligent in the care of her baby. She was juggling three children, two of whom were sick, so it was perfectly understandable that, when the third child started to run a fever, she had no reason to believe that she was coming down with something other than a cold or the flu like one child had or that, like her other children had done, she was running a slight fever because she was teething. The baby's only symptom when she'd put her to bed the night before had been a slight fever. However, when the rash had appeared and the fever had risen too high, she'd rushed her baby to the emergency room as anyone in her situation would do, and that's when she'd found out that her baby wasn't cutting teeth or coming down with a cold or flu, but had meningitis. Since none of us were there to see when the other symptoms became obvious, and the doctor couldn't say with certainty that the rash and high fever had begun before sometime during the night or that morning, they had no reason to doubt that my client had taken her baby to the doctor the very second that she'd known that something more was wrong than she'd first thought."

"Did the prosecution offer a rebuttal to that argument?" I ask as the waitress returns and quietly sets down the appetizer and the salad that Mac had ordered.

"I ordered this to share, so help yourself," Mac says as she takes something from the appetizer tray before answering my question.

"The prosecutor countered with the fact that she'd taken a sleeping pill on Friday night, and that, in so doing, she'd failed to check on her baby sooner and, had it not been for one of the other children waking her to tell her that the baby was crying, this might have been a murder case."

"Sounds like he was out for blood," I comment as I pop a mushroom cap from the appetizer tray into my mouth.

"His boss is newly elected and, after a little poking around, I found out that he wants to make an example out of every case that comes through his office to establish his tough stance on crime policy."

"Then he's already preparing for his reelection campaign," I comment while reaching for another mushroom cap.

"It would seem that way, but -"

"He wasn't counting on one of his assistants going up against you, though," I say, cutting her off and complimenting her lawyering skills.

"Thank you," she says to the compliment. "Though I don't think that I really did anything other than point out that a there's no crime in being a tired or overwhelmed mother, and that in a case like this one, we should offer to help, not try to lock up the woman."

"I take it that the judge agreed with you?" I say like a question.

"He did. He ordered that the charges be dropped. However, he did order social services to stay involved with the case for the next six months."

"They aren't making her wait six months to get her kids back, are they?" I ask incredulously.

"No, someone from children's services is going to be there this afternoon to inspect the house and to speak with her about setting up respite care to give her a break once in awhile. Then, providing that there are no problems with that, which we aren't expecting there to be, her children can come home. Ideally, she'd like to have them sleeping in their own beds tonight, but I've told her that I think that tomorrow is more realistic."

A question strikes me out of the blue and, since it'll prove useful in keeping the conversation upbeat so as not to bring down Mac's good mood, I ask it.

"If you're celebrating with a steak lunch, I wonder how your client is celebrating?"

"I took her to the hospital to see her baby."

"It sounds like your client is going to have a good Christmas after all ... thanks to you."

Mac offers a bashful smile.

"Yes, she is because, not only is the threat of jail gone, but her baby girl is doing so much better that she may have all of her children home for Christmas. The only thing that could make it better for her is if her husband was home for the holidays. Have you heard anything back from your inquiries about Major Avery?"

I wasn't going to tell her, but she's asked me a direct question.

I'll try a diversion.

"If your client is expecting children's services, don't you want to be there with her?"

"They won't be there until 1500. I have plenty of time to finish my lunch and get there," she answers, eyeing me curiously. "You know something. That's why you're trying to avoid answering my question."

"I might," I say to drag things out longer.

"Talk, Sailor," she commands.

"Hey, you can't order me around. I'm the senior officer here, remember?"

She folds her arms in front of her. "Har-r-r-rm."

With no wish to sleep on the couch, I give in and tell her what I know.

"I don't know if he'll be arriving tomorrow or Christmas Day, but I _can_ tell you that Major Avery is on his way home for the holidays."

"Thank you," she says softly and sincerely.

"Glad I could help."

"How was your morning?" she asks.

"Let's not spoil our lunch by talking about it."

"Don't worry about ruining lunch. If it'll help, start talking. I'm listening," she says as she picks up her fork.

"I appreciate the offer, but right now, being here with you is help enough."

"If you change your mind..." She allows her voice to trail off, opting to push a salad-covered fork into her mouth.

"You'll be the first one to know," I say lovingly.

Moments later our lunch plates arrive, and I watch with delight as she cuts into her steak, savoring the first bite before beginning to devour the rest of her meal.

I leave the restaurant some time later, feeling better for not only seeing Mac and hearing about her day, but also because her news means that, with only a few loose ends to tie up her case, it won't interfere with the weekend trip to the Bahamas over the New Year weekend that I'm giving her as a Christmas present.

Now I have to hope that _my_ case doesn't have _me_ missing the trip.

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**THE PENTAGON**

**1330**

I came back to my office right after leaving Mac at the restaurant and, after reviewing the evidence in the case against Catherine again, I've reached the same conclusion that I'd come to before lunch.

Though there may be perfectly logical explanations for the differences between the story that I got from my client and where the evidence points, Catherine's story doesn't explain the evidence that they have against her.

Shaking my head, I state sarcastically into my empty office, "A CIA employee who isn't willing to be forthcoming with information ... imagine that!"

I don't think that Catherine is capable of murdering someone, especially by strangulation. Such an up-close and personal way of killing really doesn't seem in character for the woman who I know, even if the police have traced the designer scarf found around the victim's neck to my client.

Then there's the fact that, as an employee of the CIA and an attorney, Catherine would be smart enough to remove anything from the scene that could implicate her, such as the murder weapon or the wineglass where her fingerprints were found.

The fingerprints are a real source of doubt about my client's innocence.

Catherine told me that she and the victim weren't friends, but that she knew her because Miss Levine was a teacher at the private school where her daughter attends. She told me that she'd gone to the woman's apartment the night that she'd been killed because she'd received a call from Miss Levine earlier in the day asking her to stop by her place so that they could have a private conversation about Elizabeth, Catherine's daughter, which she said seemed odd to her, but given that it was about her daughter, she'd agreed to meet with her.

Though a home meeting between a teacher and parent does seem odd, I believed that story until I read the report that stated that Catherine's fingerprints weren't found on the entry door or bathroom doorknob or some other likely item that a first time visitor might touch during a visit, but on an empty wineglass.

At least to me, talking over a glass of wine is a sign of a close relationship. So why would two people who, according to Catherine barely knew each other, be having wine together?

I have so many questions, and not about just the scarf and the wine. My questions go all the way back to the timing of her visit to my office when she wanted me to update her will and draw up legal documents for the guardianship of her daughter if something should happen to her.

There's no point in me sitting here reviewing the evidence any longer. I need to meet with the only one who can help me sort this out - my client.

Thankful that Matthew and Sami aren't in the daycare here today, but home, meaning that I don't have to be worried about not making it back in time to pick them up, I start to pack up the files and my notes that I want to review with Catherine.

If I can get over to the jail quickly, I hope to meet with Catherine and still make it home in time for dinner.

**ATTORNEY/CLIENT ROOM**

**METRO JAIL**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**1445**

I'm sitting in the room with my notes on the table, all set to confront Catherine about her lack of honesty.

Momentarily, I hear the clank of keys against the door, and Catherine Gayle is escorted into the room by a guard.

She looks tired and frail, though the latter may have more to do with the color of her prison attire than anything else.

Seeing Catherine this way, dressed in an orange jumpsuit instead of a tailored suit or a designer dress that she normally wears, some of the anger at my perception that she's lied to me begins to dissipate, clearing my head for more compassionate thoughts.

I've been in her shoes - accused of a murder that I didn't commit, yet the evidence had been highly compelling to the contrary.

I watch as she eyes the stack of papers on the desk as the guard has her take a seat across from me.

With Catherine seated, the guard says, "I'll be right outside that door."

I nod in understanding and, with that, the female guard exits, pulling the steel door behind her until we hear the metal-on-metal clank of the door locking.

"With tomorrow being Christmas Eve, I'm surprised to see you here today. I assumed that you'd be spending time with your family, not working," Catherine says softly.

"Time off from my Pentagon position starts today at 1600, but even if I _had_ been off today, I'd still be here because I've gone over the discovery package for your case twice, and we need to talk."

"I told you everything at the motel," she says defensively.

"Catherine, there's a tremendous amount of evidence, most of it circumstantial, but a lot of it points to you as the killer, and what you told me the other day doesn't explain most of it away. I can ask you questions based on what I've read, or you can tell me everything. When you first came to me, you said that it was because you trusted me. If you meant that, then you have no reason not to tell me."

She first breaks eye contact with me and then she asks, "What's your first question?"

It wasn't the response that I'd been hoping for, but one for which I'd been prepared since the company trains their employees to answer questions directly with as few words as possible, making it less likely that they'll give the enemy any important information.

"I have many, so, as they say, let's start at the beginning. Where and when did you meet Eva Levine?"

"I don't remember the exact date, but it was about a month after school started this year. There was an open house, and Miss Levine is Elizabeth's teacher."

It's a satisfactory response, but she didn't make eye contact with me at any time while she was answering, so I wonder if her answer was completely truthful.

"Your fingerprints were found on an empty wineglass. Can you explain that?"

I see Catherine's nostrils flare and her eyes narrow.

The question has angered her. I must be on to something.

"The prosecution will argue that chatting over glasses of wine isn't normal behavior for two people who barely knew each other as you claim," I offer as my reason for asking.

Her facial features soften, but she doesn't respond immediately.

I can see it in her eyes. She's weighing her words before speaking.

There's definitely more to the story than she's told me, making me wonder if the CIA is involved in some way and she's giving me only the information that she was told that she could share with me.

On the other hand, if the CIA _is_ involved in some way, why haven't they taken jurisdiction so that it could be handled discreetly, or at the very least seen to it that Catherine got out on bail?

The CIA factor is going to keep haunting my thoughts about this case, but I can't let it become my focus if I'm going to defend Catherine, I decide before directing my attention to Catherine's response.

"It wasn't like that. She said that we needed to talk and offered me wine, but I refused to drink with her." She pauses, and the time that she takes to think more about her answer lasts too long for me not to say anything.

"Damn it, Catherine! I need to know what happened that night. I can't help you if you don't level with me!"

She looks up at me, making eye contact with me for only a fleeting moment before staring down at the table.

"I can't tell you here," she says softly. "You don't know who might be listening."

'Does she want to confess and is afraid that it might be overheard, some kind of CIA paranoia that there are ears everywhere, or is the CIA involved in this somehow and she's just doing everything that she can to protect their secrets?' I wonder before speaking.

"Then I need to get you out of here so that we can meet someplace where you'll feel comfortable talking. I'll ask the court to reconsider bail. You aren't a flight risk and, since the police have yet to come up with a motive for you to have committed the murder, the evidence leaves plenty of room for reasonable doubt."

"Do you think that there's any chance that I can get out even if it's only for the next couple of days? I'd love to spend Christmas with my daughter," she says pleadingly.

"If the court won't set bail on my reasons alone, I'll give Webb a call. Surely he can get you released, at least for Christmas."

She leaps from the chair and shouts, "No!"

Then, as if she remembers where she is and that there's a guard outside, she sits back down and lowers her voice. However, the tight-jawed delivery of her words tells me that she's firm on the matter.

"If you can get me out using the reasons that you've just mentioned, I'll be very grateful, but you are _not_, under any circumstances, allowed to call Clay on my behalf. That man is _not_ to be involved in this on any level. Do you understand me?"

I can't say that I understand, which is true since I don't understand her position of not letting him help. However, her emphatic stand may be a clue in all this. Webb must somehow be involved in this case. Whether it's with or without the CIA's knowledge is another matter.

"I heard what you said. I'm to arrange for another hearing to make a plea for your release on bail based on the facts that I stated to you. If I can't convince the judge to release you on bail, you want me to take no further action."

"That's correct!"

"Then, if I have any hope of getting you out of here for Christmas, I've got work to do that can't be done sitting here."

Though I'm sure that a reunion would be good for both her and her daughter, I'm more interested in getting her out of here in order to have a meeting where she'll tell me what I need to know to defend her so that she can get back to _raising_ her daughter.

**DEN  
RABB RENTAL HOME  
MANASSAS, VA**

**2230**

**MAC'S POV**

Harm doesn't even look up when I enter the room, which worries me.

"You're in here working," I say, a little surprised.

My comment gets him to look up from whatever he's writing.

"I thought after we heard Mattie talking to your grandmother through the baby monitor in Patty's room that you might have come in here to mull over what she said."

He drops his pen on his legal pad as he says in a combination of hurt and confusion, "I did, but though I need to figure out how I can fix not being there enough for Mattie, I also have a client who has a bail hearing in the morning."

"First of all, you _have_ been there for Mattie, so you don't need to blame yourself, and there's nothing to be 'fixed'. What _we _need to do is to figure out how to help her get through whatever it is that has her feeling that way," I state firmly as I reach him and place my hand on his shoulder. "Secondly, I thought that your client had already had a bail hearing and that it had been denied."

"Thanks, but I still believe that if Mattie doesn't feel like she's part of the Rabb family, I must have done something or not done something to make her feel that way..." he says with some degree of sorrow in his voice. "...and Catherine did have a hearing, but I have another shot at getting her out in the morning, so I've been putting my arguments for the judge to grant her bail down on paper."

"Would it help if I told you that, once I got over the shock of hearing Mattie say that she doesn't feel like this is her family, while I was in our room waiting for you to come to bed so that we could talk, I tried to put myself in her shoes. Now, I don't know if what I came up with will do the trick, but it may show her that we see her as part of our family, and if nothing else, it may cause her to open up about what's going on in her life that has her feeling so 'out of place', and the best part is that we don't have to tell her that we heard anything."

"I'm all ears, Mrs. Rabb," he says, pulling me onto his lap.

**HARM'S POV**

With Mac having come up with an idea of what might help Mattie feel like she's part of the family or at least open up to us, I'm going to return my focus to the hearing that I have in the morning, but before Mac gets completely out of the room, I decide to ask her a few questions.

"Mac," I call out as she almost has the door closed behind her.

"Yes," she says, stepping back into the room.

"If you were a single mother and one of the teacher's at school called and asked you to come to their home or apartment to discuss your child, would you go?"

I can see by the expression on her face that the question puzzles her.

"I might. I mean, I'd certainly try to get them to meet with me somewhere more appropriate, if not the school for some reason, then someplace public yet quiet enough that we could have a conversation. I'd be especially reluctant to meet with a male teacher at his home since I'd be concerned that my child wasn't really what he wanted to discuss, but I suppose if they refused to meet me someplace else, in the interest of my child, I'd agree to meet them at their home."

"Okay, I can see that," I state.

"Any other hypothetical questions for me?" she asks.

"No," I say, lifting my pen.

"Wait, one more," I say, dropping my pen again.

She steps into the room and closes the door.

"Go ahead," she coaxes.

"If you did go to this meeting at the home and it was a female teacher, would you have a glass of wine with the conversation?" I ask, not thinking about the content of the question.

"You know I wouldn't."

"Of course, _you_ wouldn't, but ..."

"...but if I weren't an alcoholic, would I?"

I nod, feeling badly that I'd asked her.

"Unless the teacher was also a friend of mine, I'd be there to hear about what was going on with my child, so no, I wouldn't drink with them.

Why these questions about having drinks with teachers at their homes? Have one of Abigail or Tyler's teachers asked you to their place, or does the question have something to do with your case?"

"The case."

"Is there anything that I can do to help?" Mac asks.

"With this case, no, not tonight, but your idea may do the trick, so you can draw up the papers for me to give to Mattie."

"Consider it done," she says as she makes her way to the door.

I wait until she has the door open again before speaking, "I shouldn't be too much longer. Will you wait up for me?"

"You bet, Sailor," she says with a sweet and loving smile before closing the door to allow me to finish my work so that I can join her that much sooner.


	30. Chapter 30

**PART EIGHT**

**WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2008**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0505**

**MAC'S POV**

When Harm asked if I'd wait up for him, I was hoping that he might open up to me about his case. However, though we did talk before going to sleep, our conversation was about Christmas and our children. He didn't utter one word about his client or her case, and it's a shame because talking about what's bothering him may have allowed him to get a night of restful sleep.

I didn't sleep well either, and though I'd like to blame my lack of sleep on Harm's tossing and turning, it isn't his fault that I have so much to do and hope to get done before church this evening that my brain has been on overdrive, prioritizing the tasks and formulating a plan to get everything done in time.

**LIVING ROOM**

**ANDREW GALE APARTMENT**

**ALEXANDRIA, VA**

**0800**

Catherine's brother, Andrew, collapsed in his chair, the chair that every man has or should have, the one that's not only comfortable for watching a ball game, but for dozing off for a nap.

This morning, Andrew was hoping to use it for the latter since his niece had only just fallen asleep, having been up all night crying her eyes out over being here for Christmas without her mother or father.

Since his sister had told him that Elizabeth's father worked overseas and, though he did visit when he was in town, he didn't see his niece with any kind of regularity, Andrew had become used to being the steady male influence in his niece's life. However, this new duty of providing her daily care was taking its toll on him.

He leaned back in his chair.

His sister had come to him out of the blue and said that she had to go away and that where she was going was no place for her little angel. So she'd had any legal documents that he might need drawn up, and with that she'd added that she'd return as soon as she could and left, leaving Elizabeth in his full-time care.

With her job, he'd learned not to ask Catherine any questions, but today was Christmas Eve. Surely whatever it was could wait a few days so that his niece could have at least her mother with her for Christmas.

Andrew was angry but too tired to get worked up about it right now.

The thought that perhaps her father would show up flitted through his mind.

It was only a fleeting thought because he'd never believed Catherine's story that the man worked overseas. No, given the timing of her birth, there were two possibilities. The father was either the sailor who'd 'married' her for his mother's sake or the man who Catherine had claimed that she'd been dating whom he'd always suspected was an agent, and that's why no one had ever met him.

It was the second one who Andrew believed to be the most likely, not only because his sister had denied that Harm was the father, but also because the sailor had seemed to be an upright kind of guy, and he couldn't imagine him not being more involved in his daughter's life if he'd fathered Elizabeth.

Wondering what he could do to help his niece have a merry Christmas or at least a Christmas without tears, Andrew fell asleep in his chair.

**DIRECTOR KERSHAW'S OFFICE**

**CIA HEADQUARTERS**

**0900**

"Sir, a Captain Rabb is calling for you. What do you want me to tell him?" Kershaw's secretary said through the receiver.

"Rabb..." Kershaw said his last name but nothing more as he mulled over whether he was going to take the call or have his secretary or Tomlin field it.

Remembering that he'd given Tomlin the day off to prepare for Christmas with his wife and children, that option was quickly eliminated.

'Knowing Rabb, he isn't calling to wish me a Merry Christmas, so I'd better take his call. It could be important,' Kershaw concluded before answering his secretary.

"Put him through. I'll talk to him."

**HARM'S SUV**

**EN ROUTE TO THE COURTHOUSE**

**VIRGINIA**

**0912**

**HARM'S POV**

This morning when I was dressing to leave the house, I had an idea - Catherine told me not to call Webb, but she didn't say anything about not contacting the CIA.

With a 1000 hearing, I'm cutting the time pretty close for me to get to the courthouse and consult with my client before appearing in front of the judge. However, the time that I used to talk to Kershaw before I left the house was well worth the risk of being late.

During my conversation with the Director of the CIA, I got the sense that, not only did he not know that Catherine was in jail, but he'd been surprised to hear that she'd been arrested, leading me to believe that,_ if _the murder had been set up by the CIA, it had been without Kershaw's knowledge.

Though I don't think that Kershaw knew anything about Catherine's situation, I still can't rule out the possibility that he was lying through his teeth and does have information concerning the murder of Eva Levine, so I can't rule out CIA involvement completely, making the CIA an unknown variable and complicating Catherine's case.

If the company wasn't a possible factor, my direction with the investigation would've been focused on the school and the victim's friends and family. So I'm going to change strategies, and my first goal is to get bail set for my client and then get to work to find out more about the victim.

**VIRGINIA CRIMINAL COURT**

**ARLINGTON, VA**

**0945**

I arrive at the courthouse with high expectations that my arguments will persuade the judge to set bail, until the prosecution turns over new evidence to me, a document that supports a theory for Catherine's motive - blackmail!

**DEFENDANT/ATTORNEY CONSULTATION ROOM**

**VIRGINIA CRIMINAL COURT**

**ARLINGTON, VA**

**MINUTES BEFORE HER BAIL HEARING**

**CATHERINE GALE'S POV**

Harm arranged for us to meet in here prior to the hearing, but so far the only thing that he's said is, "They have new evidence that provides, in their opinion, a motive, the final piece of evidence that they needed to convict you."

The silence that he's let settle in the room is making the seconds that are ticking by seem like minutes and the last few minutes seem like hours.

"I told you that she was alive when I left her apartment," I blurt out, hating the silence. Well, not the silence as much as the look in his eyes, the one that says that he now thinks I'm guilty.

"I know that's what you said and I want to believe you, but you're making it very difficult," he says through a clenched jaw.

He's angry.

Regaining some of his composure but not any less angry, he continues, "You lied to me. It isn't that clients never lie to their attorney, but as a lawyer yourself and someone who told me that they trusted me, I expected you to tell me everything, as I asked you to do. Instead, you've fed me a line of crap about meeting the victim at her apartment to discuss your daughter!"

"It wasn't a lie! I _was _there to discuss Elizabeth!" I exclaim, slightly indignant because it's only a partial truth.

"Really!"

His tone is scolding, like he's caught a child in a lie.

He knows something.

I reach across the table and grab the papers in front of him.

He offers no resistance to me gaining access to the papers, which suggests that he _wanted_ me to look at them.

Once in my hands, it takes only a moment to see that the new evidence is my bank statement, which shows a large cash withdrawal.

"That's not all. The prosecution has also added a witness to testify that, not only were you at the apartment the night of the murder, but that during your stay, the volume of your voices rose like the two of you were arguing, though she said that you weren't loud enough for her to make out what either of you was saying. I'm sure that you know where this is going, but just so it's clear. The prosecution is going to go into your hearing today and request that you continue to be held without bail now that they have evidence in their possession of your motive - that she was blackmailing you and that you killed her to put an end to it."

His voice was calm as he delivered the additional information, but with an underlying tone that suggests that I should be honest and forthcoming with him.

Now he's staring at me, waiting for me to offer some explanation for the new evidence.

"Just because they _say_ that's what happened doesn't make it so," I argue, trying to cast doubt in his mind about the validity of their claim.

"True. However, your reaction to the news tells me that they have it at least partially right. You may not have killed her, but she _was_ blackmailing you," he says with confidence.

That diversionary tactic didn't work, leaving me caught in a trap of sorts.

In order for him to defend me properly, he needs to know more than I've told him, but if I admit that she was blackmailing me, he'll want to know what she was holding over me, and the fewer people who know that the better. After all, with less than a handful of people knowing, somehow Eva Levine managed to get her hands on the information.

I'm staring blankly at the papers in front of me, thinking of what my next move should be. Part of me wants to tell him everything in hopes that he can get me out of here so that I can spend Christmas with my daughter, but another part wants to keep my secret at all cost, even if that's my freedom.

"Damn it, Catherine, give me something to work with!"

The first part of his statement was an exclamation of frustration. The second was a plea for me to help myself by helping him get me out of here.

I inhale deeply.

"It's true. She was blackmailing me...but I didn't kill her."

"You're going to have to give me more to work with than that," Harm states, but it's the concern in his eyes that weakens my resolve.

"She wanted more money to keep quiet, and I said that I wouldn't pay her any more. We argued, I threw wine in her face and I left," I explain. Then the events of that night begin to flash through my mind.

*********FLASHBACK TO THE NIGHT OF THE MURDER********

**APARTMENT OF EVA LEVINE **

**GEORGETOWN**

**1920**

**CATHERINE GALE'S POV**

I can't believe that I'm here to pay off a blackmailer.

I'm expected, so I have to knock only once before the door opens.

Without uttering a word, she motions for me to enter.

Thinking that it's probably a better idea to give her the envelope behind closed doors, I step inside her apartment.

"I've poured wine for us. Please sit down," she says from behind me, and then I hear the door close.

I respond quickly and firmly to her request.

"We aren't friends. There's no reason for you to extend any pleasantries to me."

"There's no reason to be hostile..." she begins sweetly, the way that I'd expect a thirty-something single school teacher to speak to one of her students. Then her tone changes to one of a woman capable of blackmail. "...especially when you have a secret that you want kept. So sit down! We need to discuss your next payment."

Stunned by this new information about a second payment, I do as she asks and move to the sofa.

The fireplace in the cozy living room has made the room more than a little warm, so though I don't want to get too comfortable, I do untie my scarf and allow the ends to drape down over my coat.

Hoping not to be here too long, I sit down on her sofa with my coat on and quickly notice that there are two glasses of red wine and an open bottle on the coffee table in front of me, displayed in such a way as to suggest that she sees this as a social call, making me that much more confident that leaving my coat on so that I can leave in a hurry was the right thing to do.

I wait for her to sit down so that I can look her in the eye.

"There isn't going to be another payment," I state calmly, but firmly.

"Yes there will be if you want your secret kept...which I'm sure that you do or you wouldn't be here tonight. You did bring the money with you, didn't you?"

Her words come out in a confident purr as she reaches for one of the glasses of wine before lifting it to her lips as she waits for my response.

I reach into my purse and pull out a manila envelope stuffed with cash.

"Yes, I brought the five thousand, but that's all I have..." I start to end there, but as I place the envelope on her coffee table next to the glasses of wine, I quickly decide to add, "...and though I've gone to great lengths to keep my daughter's father a secret, it was for her_ safety_, not because it would ruin my life if everyone knew."

In a move of defiance or as if to punctuate my statement with an exclamation point, I stand, preparing to leave the apartment.

She doesn't flinch, just repeats my actions.

Showing me that she isn't backing down, she places her glass of wine on the table and stands as well.

"Perhaps five thousand is all that Elizabeth's life is worth to you if you aren't willing to pay more to keep her safe."

The casual way that she seems to be taking my concern for my daughter - the fact that this woman is putting a price on my daughter's safety accelerates my anger to a level that I didn't know that I was capable of feeling, and I spit out in a defensive tone, "I love my daughter very much."

"Maybe she means more to her father, and he'd be willing to pay to keep her safe. Perhaps I should call him."

I didn't think that I could get any angrier, but ... I reach down and grab one of the glasses of wine and, in one fluid motion, I lift the glass and toss the contents into her face.

"Take this as a warning. I don't think that he'd take well to being blackmailed, so for the sake of your own health, I wouldn't call him if I were you," I threaten.

She reaches for me as I turn to leave, but her hand catches only my scarf and, as I continue on my journey to her front door, I can feel it being pulled from around my neck as I walk away from her.

I hear her laugh sadistically like a serial killer in a movie, and I take a moment to look to see if she has a gun pointed at me or a knife poised to be thrown and find that she's using my scarf to dab at the drops of red wine that are dripping off her chin.

"Same amount in two weeks ... bring it here ... same time," she says before I turn away and reach for the doorknob.

********END FLASHBACK********

"Catherine?" Harm says, startling me back to the present. "Where were you just now?" he asks suspiciously.

"Sorry, I was just thinking ... I know that what I've told you makes it sound like they're right, but I swear to you that, when I left her apartment, red wine was running in streaks down her face, but she was very much alive."

"So tossing the wine at her is how your fingerprints got on the wineglass," Harm says, now understanding why my fingerprints were found on the glass.

"Yes," I answer quietly.

He's leaning back in his chair, and I can't read his expression, nor does it look like he's about to say something that will give me a clue as to whether or not he believes me.

Hoping to be rewarded with some idea of what side of the guilty/innocent line he stands, I make one final pleading statement in my defense.

"I was angry when I left her apartment that night, but I would've been back to pay her," I say vehemently.

"Did you pay her anything that night? Harm asks.

"Yes, I gave her the five thousand dollars that my bank statement shows as a withdrawal," I answer.

"That explains part of the cash that they found hidden in her apartment, but not all of it. Maybe you weren't the only one who she was blackmailing," Harm theorizes.

"Which means that I'm not the only one with a motive, and I would've paid her again. What choice did I have? I'm not a killer, but I couldn't risk her telling anyone what she knew."

"Then how did your scarf end up around her neck?" he asks calmly.

"I don't know! She grabbed for me as I was leaving but caught hold of my scarf. She was wiping drops of wine off her chin with it when I left!"

"I believe you," he says with a sigh. "The problem is, when you combine their evidence with your story, it pretty much gives the prosecution a guilty verdict on a silver platter."

Before he can ask me any more questions about what I've told him or why I was being blackmailed, the guard opens the door and announces that it's time for us to move into the courtroom for my hearing.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1230**

**HARM'S POV**

Not having been greeted by anyone upon entering the house, I decide to get out of the suit that I'd worn to court this morning before searching out my family. However, in the bedroom, I find my wife sitting on the floor surrounded by wrapping paper, ribbon and all things related to wrapping presents.

She looks up from the partially wrapped package on the floor. "Hey, how'd the hearing go?"

"Not good," I say, pulling at my tie. "The judge denied bail again."

"I'm sorry," she says apologetically as she gets to her feet.

She sounded as if she had some responsibility for the judge's decision.

"I did get a call on my way home that gave me good news to share about your Major Avery," I state, not wanting to stay on the topic of my time in court.

"Is he going to be home tomorrow?" she asks, looking up at me with anticipation on her face that reminds me of a child about to open a present on Christmas morning.

"No, better. Unless there's an exorbitant number of last minute shoppers clogging up the roadways, he should be home for dinner tonight," I reply.

I thought that I might be rewarded with a kiss or a hug, but she just stands there and stares at me before she says, "It can't be that soon because I spoke to Mrs. Avery an hour ago. She called to thank me again for everything that I did to help her and to let me know that she got to bring her baby home from the hospital this morning, but she didn't mention that the whole family was going to be together."

My wife is skeptical about the accuracy of my information.

"She didn't say anything because she doesn't know. After what she and her children have been through, I thought that it would nice for them to have a "good" surprise."

"Thank you," she says with a twinkle in her eye before giving me a quick peck on the lips.

"You're welcome," I reply when she pulls her lips away from mine.

"I'd better finish wrapping these last few gifts before the little ones are up from their naps," she says as she lowers herself to the spot on the floor where she'd been doing a fine impersonation of Mrs. Claus when I entered the room.

**UNKNOWN LOCATION**

**1330 (EASTERN TIME)**

His cellphone rang.

The restricted number listed in the caller ID window suggested that it was bad news before he accepted the call.

He answered it by saying hello in a curt tone, one stemming from frustration. After all, he'd arrived here on December 17th, planning to have this assignment completed by now and allowing him to be stateside to spend Christmas with his daughter, but nothing had been going according to plan, and he now found himself hoping that he'd see Elizabeth before the start of the new year.

"Webb, you're being recalled! You're to get here ASAP!" Kershaw's voice sounded strained, yet urgent as it reached his ear.

"Sir, I know that this assignment is taking longer than we discussed, but -"

"I got a call from Rabb earlier, and after some checking ... we've got a situation here," Director of the CIA Kershaw said bluntly, cutting off Clayton.

"What has Rabb gotten himself into?" Clayton questioned.

"It isn't Rabb. It's our Ms. Gale. It seems that he's defending her."

"What's the charge, Sir?"

"Murder, and I want you in on the investigation."

Kershaw could hear a sudden intake of air, a gasp of shock that Webb inhaled at the news.

Stunned by the seriousness of the charge and immediately believing that Catherine wouldn't be capable of such a crime, Webb's response was a clear, "I'm already on my way back, Sir."

Kershaw didn't bother to say goodbye. He just hung up.

**HOME OF MAJOR JAMES AVERY, USMC**

**ALEXANDRIA, VA **

**1745**

Wanda Avery was enjoying singing Christmas carols with her children as they sat in the living room waiting for dinner to be ready when the sound of the doorbell filled the air.

"I wonder who that could be," Mrs. Avery said to her children, not expecting them to offer any answers.

"It's too early for Santa. He comes when you're sleepin'," her four-year-old offered.

"Mom, can I get the door?" her son asked.

"Remember Dad's rule. You can't answer the door alone until you're tall enough to look through the peephole, but I don't see why you can't come with me to see who's come to visit us."

The frown that the first part of her answer had caused had disappeared by the time that she'd finished the last part.

As they moved to the front door, her son communicated a plan that should satisfy his dad's rule but allow him to be the first one to greet their guest.

"You look out the peephole, and if it's okay to open the door, you tell me, and I'll open it," he said with a grin.

**1747 **

Mrs. Avery had no objection to her son's plan and leaned forward to look through the peephole, but instead of the simple "open the door" or "okay" for which her son was waiting, he heard her gasp. Then his mother stood up straight and started to fiddle with the hem of her shirt and run her fingers through her hair.

"How do I look?" she questioned.

"Pretty, Momma," he answered, though he had no idea why it had become important at this moment.

Not believing that she'd really seen him, Wanda looked again.

"Who is it?" her son questioned, wondering why she needed to look twice.

"Open the door," she said, not wanting to ruin the surprise for her son, or perhaps she couldn't believe that it was him and didn't want to announce it and be wrong, thus disappointing her children.

The boy twisted the knob and pulled the door fully open, curious to see who was causing his mother to act so weirdly.

"Daddy," the boy screamed excitedly.

Relieved that she hadn't been imagining him being there, tears of joy ran down Wanda's face.

With their son clutching him around the legs, his wife leaned in and wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, and having heard her brother, they were soon joined by a four-year-old who wanted to know, if it was really Daddy and not a trick, why he hadn't just come in the house.

"Because I packed so fast to get here that I forgot my keys," her father said as her mother stepped aside, revealing the man in uniform who was home from war for the holiday.

**THE VIETNAM MEMORIAL**

**'THE WALL'**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**HARM'S POV**

After we got home from church and I'd helped bring in the sleeping babies, I asked Mac if she wanted to come to The Wall with me, but she declined. I'm not sure why, though, as it turns out, if she _had_ come, I don't think that another member of the family would've come with me to pay their respects.

Maybe it has something to do with having found love again with Frank, but my mother is very accepting of the fact that my father is gone. However, I found out that there's one person who seemed to be ready to face the fact that she'd never see her son again when she asked me if it would be okay if she came with me tonight to say goodbye to my father.

I was surprised by her request, but more than willing to have someone along who could relate to the pain that goes hand-in-hand with a visit here.

Letting her hold onto me, both for balance in the snow and support, my grandmother and I have walked in front of the memorial until I've reached the panel that I know contains my father's name.

We stand silently for several minutes before my grandmother says softly, "There are so many names..."

Her voice trails off as if, up until now she'd known that she wasn't the only mother who'd lost a son, but the visual image created by seeing the wall of names brings home the idea that she was one of thousands upon thousands who'd lost touch with someone in that war.

I say 'lost touch' because no one can be certain that the people whose names are on this wall are all dead. Though with each passing day it becomes less likely that there are survivors, you have to consider that, if a man had been captured in his early to mid-twenties during the war, he'd be in his sixties or seventies now. Though, with the reports of those who came home, it would seem unlikely that a man who's body had been through so much would live to a ripe old age, sixty-something seems possible.

That's what makes having a family member's name on this wall so sad. No matter how slim the chances, a loved one wants to keep the hope alive that they'll see them again. Yet, the reality is that, after this many years, they'll never know exactly what happened to them if they're still MIA.

In a way, that makes me one of the lucky ones because I was able to find out what happened to my dad.

"Do you believe that Russian woman's story that my son is really dead?" my grandmother asks.

"Yes, Ma'am," I respond softly.

"Do you talk to him here?" she asks.

"Yes. Would you like for me to give you a few minutes alone?" I ask, sensing that she'd like to have at least a little privacy in this public place.

Her voice cracks with emotion as she answers, "If you don't mind, a few minutes, and then I"ll go to the car and let you have some time with him."

"I won't be far away in case you need me."

After getting a nod of understanding from her, I step away.

I find myself standing in front of the statue that honors the women who were in the war, but I face the opposite direction to keep my eyes on my grandmother.

**SOME MINUTES LATER**

I wait for my grandmother to begin to walk towards the Lincoln Memorial before leaving my spot and approaching her.

"Pay your respects to your father. I can make it to the car by myself," she says.

I can see tears on her face even in the dim light, telling me that she wants the time alone to regain her composure.

Nodding my understanding, I hand her the keys so that she can get into the SUV before stepping away to walk to the place where I've stood on so many Christmas Eves.

Reaching the spot, I remove my glove and lift my hand to rub my fingertips over his name.

Lowering my hand, I begin to speak to him.

"I'm here in person this year, Dad. ... Mac's keeping me on my toes. ... Your grandchildren are growing like weeds. ... Little Sarah had us worried at first, and she could still have some problems from coming into this world early, but so far, she's healthy, and her doctor is quite pleased with her progress."

I don't seem to have much to say to him this year.

"I guess I should catch up with Grandma and get her home. Bye, Dad."

**DEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**2205**

**HARM'S POV**

Mac comes in and sits on the edge of my desk.

"Tomorrow is Christmas and the children will be up early. You aren't seriously thinking of staying up to work on this case and not get any rest, are you?"

"No, I just thought that I'd look over the file one more time before I turn in, hoping that something will jump off the pages at me that will at least allow her to spend Christmas with her daughter."

"Any luck with that?" she asks.

"No," I reply sadly.

She slips off the desk, comes around behind me and places her hands on either side of my neck.

"I'm sure that you did everything that you could," she says as she starts to gently knead my neck and shoulder muscles with her hands.

"I'd say so. I stooped so low that I called Director Kershaw even though I'm sure that, if he knew something, he wouldn't share it with me. I was hoping that he'd step up and get her out of jail.

"I gathered that she and Clay were friends. Maybe you should've asked him to help her instead of Kershaw."

"I would have, but my client issued strict instructions that I wasn't to contact him under any circumstances."

"I get the feeling that means something, but I don't know what," Mac states curiously.

"That was my take on it, too, but I don't have time to focus on what kind of falling-out happened between Catherine and Webb. I need to figure out how to defend her against this murder charge."

"We have children who will be up early to see what Santa brought them, so we need to go to bed," Mac says, stopping the massage of my neck and shoulders.

"You go ahead. I'm going to look at the file one more time."

"Harm, I'm worried about you. You haven't slept well in a couple of nights. Please come to bed now."

"Just one more look, and then I'll come to bed. I won't be long."

"You promise?"

"I promise," I reply, lifting her hand off my shoulder and placing a kiss in her palm.

Moments later, she's left me alone to review the file as she heads off to bed.


	31. Chapter 31

**PART NINE **

**THURSDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2008**

**DEN **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0130**

**HARM'S POV**

As I'd promised my wife, I went to bed and lay down after reviewing the evidence against Catherine again, but my tossing and turning wasn't going to allow Mac or me to get any restful sleep, so I gave up and came in here to face the source of my restlessness - the murder of Eva Levine.

Since I wasn't able to get Catherine out of jail before Christmas, here in the den in my pajamas and bathrobe, I've set out the photos, notes and reports to go over them yet again, not to solve the case, but hoping to put a theory together that will get her released soon..

**0220**

**MAC'S POV**

I'd been awake when he came to bed, so I know that he didn't break his promise, but when Patty's cries stirred me from my sleep forty-two minutes ago and he wasn't in bed, I knew where I'd find him.

Having taken our hungry daughter out of her crib, changed, fed and put her back to bed, I head to the den to check on my husband.

He's obsessing over this case so much that he can't sleep, and that upsets me, but the fact that he's defending a former girlfriend makes it even worse.

I stop to take a calming breath outside the door since I don't want to fight with my husband, especially on Christmas Day.

Telling myself that I just need to remind him that I can help, whether it be by sorting through the evidence or being his sounding board while he works through the parts of the case that are bothering him, I walk in with a warm smile on my face.

However, my disarming smile wasn't necessary since he isn't sitting at his desk but standing at the window behind the desk with his back to me, staring out into the night.

I walk into the room and notice the reports, crime scene photos and other evidence scattered over his desk.

"Penny for your thoughts," I offer softly, hoping that it's a gentle push to get him to confide in me.

**HARM'S POV**

I knew that she was in the room before she spoke.

"I'm okay," I say reassuringly without taking my focus off the snowflakes falling outside.

"I beg to differ. You aren't sleeping." She pauses for only a fraction of a second before adding, "This case is becoming an obsession to you, and it's making me wonder why."

Before she paused, she sounded concerned, but the last part of her statement is laced with insecurity.

I turn and make eye contact with her before starting to move closer to her while I explain why I'm obsessing over this case.

"There isn't any reason that you need to worry your pretty little head about," I begin as I reach out for her.

Placing my hands on her hips, I look into her dark brown eyes.

"I hate to see any child be without a parent, let alone both of them at Christmas," I say with a sigh.

As I look into her eyes, I see that she understands that my experience as a youth makes me more sensitive to the effects of being without a parent, especially at this time of year.

Not wanting to sweep her female intuition under the rug, I also confess that my client is part of the reason why I'm working so diligently on this case.

"I also don't believe that Catherine is capable of killing someone, and though I wouldn't want anyone to be falsely convicted, I especially don't want her to be..." I see Mac's nostrils flare a little and I catch a glimpse of jealousy in her eyes. "...because I owe her a lot for helping me get to you in Paraguay. If she hadn't..."

Even though that was several years ago, I still can't bring myself to think, let alone say out loud what would've happened to Mac if I hadn't arrived when I did.

Mac slips her arms around me and gives me a gentle squeeze as she says softly, "I don't like to think about what might have happened to me, either."

She pulls back, and I see the glistening of tears that are beginning to form in her eyes.

"The night that I saw her at your place ... I thought that she looked pregnant, but I told myself that it couldn't be..."

Her voice trails off, and now I understand a lot more about her insecurity, not only now, but since we've been together. She's been carrying around the possibility of me having fathered a child with another woman.

"Your eyes were fine. She was pregnant that day, but she wasn't there to tell me that I was going to be a father."

"The timing... Is it possible that you ...?" Again, she can't finish the sentence.

"Not according to Catherine, who should know when she got pregnant. However, to remove any doubt that I had, she consented to a paternity test after her daughter was born, so it's with ninety-nine point nine-nine percent certainty that I can tell you that I'm not her child's father."

"I thought that you would've told me if you had a child, but because I was told that I had such a small shot at motherhood, I also sometimes thought that you were keeping quiet to spare my feelings. Of course, watching you be a dad, I didn't think that you could walk away and not see or support a child who you fathered, but then when she came to you out of the blue for something routine, I started to wonder again. Then the next thing I knew you're defending her against a murder charge, and because you haven't been confiding in me about her case or letting me help, I was starting to think that maybe it was because you didn't want me to find out that you were her child's father."

I once again pull her close to me and hold her tightly.

"It wasn't that at all. You have so much on your plate already, and you were working on the Avery case, too. Then at the start of this case, I was also thinking that the CIA might be involved, and the risk factor was too high for you to know too much. Those are the reasons why I haven't enlisted your help," I explain.

"I'm not busy now, and if it'll help you to be able to put this aside for a few hours to enjoy Christmas with your children, I'm willing to lend an ear or look over the evidence with you."

"With the courts closed for the holidays, I'm not sure how I can move this case forward until they reopen, but I need to try because, if I don't come up with something soon, this case may ruin one of your Christmas presents from me."

Mac lifts her head off my chest and asks, "Why would working on her case ruin one of _my_ Christmas presents?"

"Well, since it's technically Christmas Day, I'll tell you, but you have to act surprised when you open it so that our children won't get the idea that it's okay to open presents early."

I wait until I get a nod of agreement before continuing.

"Plane tickets... I thought that since Mom and Frank will be leaving after the holidays, I could impose on them to stay with the children while I whisked you away to the Bahamas, but if I'm going to make any progress on this case while I'm on leave, it looks like you may have to take the trip without me."

"A little fun in the sun ..." Mac says excitedly, but then, "...I don't know if I can leave Patty," she adds, sounding apologetic.

"I knew that leaving our baby girl this soon might be hard for you. That's why I didn't make it a long trip ... just New Year's weekend. We'd leave on Friday morning and be back on Monday afternoon. I just wanted to give you a few days to rest, really rest, and to give us a day or two alone to start off the new year."

"If you can't go, I don't want to go! How good would a second honeymoon be without my husband?" she says before placing her lips on mine.

Our kiss becomes a moment when we share the hopes of what the trip could be if we're able to go. We lose ourselves, indulging in the taste and feel of each other until the moment passes and our kiss comes to a natural close.

"It'll be a shame if we have to miss our trip," she says with a hint of regret, but there's understanding in her eyes.

"Yes, it will, and I hope that it doesn't happen," I say, releasing my hold on her. "So what do you say to going over the case from top to bottom once before we go back to bed to see if we can get an hour or two of sleep before the children wake us wanting to open presents?"

"Sounds good," she says, following me over to the desk.

**INTERROGATION ROOM**

**METRO JAIL**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**0805**

**CATHERINE GALE'S POV**

I'm nervous when the guard unexpectedly comes to my cell to get me, and on Christmas Day, no less.

We pass the corridor to the lawyer's meeting rooms that I've been down before, which increases my anxiety.

I decide to focus on the positive and tell myself that I must have a Christmas Day visitor.

However, that's a pipe dream since only Harm and the DA's office know that I'm here.

Then I become less anxious and a little irritated. If Harm has told my brother where I am ... I don't want to see him, and especially my daughter, not like this - with me in shackles and prison garb.

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach when we come to stand in front of an interrogation room door, and I'm also a little confused. I thought that they had their case all tied up in a pretty little bow. Why would they want to talk to me again?

I thought that being away from my daughter on Christmas was the worst possible thing that could happen to me, but now the police want to ask me more questions. This day can't get any worse.

The guard unlocks the door and, when I see my 'interrogator', I take back what I said. The day _can_ get worse.

"What do you want?" I snap as the guard gives me a nudge forward with her hand.

"Nice to see you, too, Catherine," he says with a smile, only heightening my irritation.

The guard has pushed me forward enough to close the door behind me, leaving me alone with him.

"I told Harm not to call you," I spit out.

"Not that I care if you're angry with him, but he didn't call me. Kershaw called and ordered me back here to aid in the investigation of the charges against you."

"I don't know why he'd do that," I say, his sheer presence making me angrier by the second.

"You know why. It's because he knows that I have an interest in your safety and well-being."

I'm internally cursing myself for not telling Harm not to call Director Kershaw, one of only four people - myself, Clay, his mother and Kershaw - who know that Clayton Webb is my daughter's father.

"I know that you're angry with me, but while we're waiting for the official word to come down that you're being released into my custody, why don't you tell me who's caring for your daughter and how you came to be charged with murdering a teacher at her school?"

"My release..." I choke out.

"Yes, and with any luck, you should be celebrating Christmas with your daughter within the next hour," he replies softly with a warm smile.

Relief fills me, and I'm suddenly glad to see him.

"I'm sure that you've read the police reports at least, so you know as much as I do about why I was charged with the murder," I say, replying to the latter so that I don't have to focus any further attention on my legal mess at the moment. "As for Elizabeth, she's with my brother."

"I've missed you, Catherine," he says warmly.

He's capable of great compassion and warmth, but his job keeps those moments from happening with any kind of regularity, and it's tough to be with a man who's job not only comes first, but even when he's with me, his thoughts seem to be elsewhere.

In the end, the few good moments, no matter how wonderful, were outweighed by the ones that left me feeling alone, and I ended the relationship.

Six weeks later, while he was in Paraguay with Colonel MacKenzie, I discovered that I was pregnant.

Though he returned just two weeks later, his experiences there had changed him, making any chance of a reconciliation then, even for the baby's sake, out of the question.

Added to that was the apparent relationship that had blossomed between he and Colonel MacKenzie while they were away, and feeling his lack of compassion for my situation and his unwillingness to help where my mother was concerned, I turned to Harm, who needed someone, too.

However, since Clay and I were with people who were in love with each other, both relationships were doomed from the start, and though Clay and I weren't able to reconcile at the time, I still had feelings for him, which kept me from becoming too emotionally involved with Harm.

"I've missed you, too, Clay," I say sincerely.

He reaches across the table and takes my hand.

"We'll talk more when I get you out of here," he says, leaving me wondering if he's talking about a personal conversation or one that details the events of the night of Eva Levine's murder.

My hand wrapped in his brings me comfort, and whether it's the physical connection or the loving look in his eyes as he squeezes my hand, I'm reminded that I still harbor feelings ... that I'm still in love with him.

**ANDREW GALE'S APARTMENT**

**ALEXANDRIA, VA**

**0930**

**ANDREW GALE'S POV**

Elizabeth sat in front of my minimally decorated, apartment-sized Christmas tree for nearly an hour, uninterested in opening presents before she gave up on either one of her parents coming and went back to lie down on her bed.

Unable to come up with anything that will cheer up my niece, I'm near my wits end when there's a knock on the door.

I rush to the door, hoping that my guest will serve as a distraction from the current anything but Christmas-like atmosphere of my apartment.

I don't bother to ask who it is or look out the peephole. I just fling the door open wide.

"Cath ..." I'm so glad to see her that I don't even get out my sister's whole name as I grab her and pull her to me.

"Merry Christmas," she says as I hug her tightly.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," I reciprocate.

"Where is she? I want to take her home," she says when I release her.

"You drop her off and then show up here to take her home for Christmas without offering any explanation?"

"Andrew, don't be upset. I'll explain later, but her father would like to see her."

She sounds apologetic.

Not wanting to fight with my sister on Christmas, I offer a nod of acknowledgment and point towards the guest bedroom.

**OUTSIDE ANDREW'S BUILDING**

**A FEW MINUTES LATER **

**ELIZABETH'S ****POV**

Holding hands with my mommy, we're approaching a dark sedan, the same kind that my daddy usually drives, and I'm starting to get excited. Is Daddy here, too? If so, it's going to be a great Christmas.

Mommy opens the car door, and sure enough, the man behind the wheel is my daddy.

"Daddy!" I squeal.

"Hello, Sweetheart," my daddy says as Mommy fastens my seatbelt.

It's too bad that Uncle Andrew didn't come to the car with us so that he could meet my daddy because, when I asked him to call him, he told me that he'd never met my daddy and didn't know who to call.

"Are you going to stay with us for Christmas, Daddy?" I ask, though I shouldn't because just seeing him is gift enough and I dare not even think about wishing for more.

"I don't know how long I can stay, but I'm going to stay for at least a little while," he answers, making me a very happy little girl.

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1330**

**HARM'S POV**

Once breakfast is over and all the presents are opened, the house becomes divided. The women and three older girls are all in the kitchen, probably doing as much talking as they are cooking, and Frank, Ty and I are in the living room with Matthew and my baby girl, settled in to watch football.

It's half-time for the game that we've been watching when my cell phone rings.

I look at the device as if it's an object that I've never seen before.

With no caller ID or number showing in the window, I'm guessing that it's the SecNav and I really don't want to have to go to work on Christmas.

"If it's bad news, not answering will only put off hearing it. It won't change the news," Frank comments, pulling me from my thoughts.

"I'd better take this in the other room," I say just before the house phone rings.

Looking at Frank, he motions that he'll get that call, and I head to the den.

Connecting the call after the last ring before it automatically transfers to voice mail, I say into my phone, "This is Captain Rabb."

"Rabb, I got back in Washington this morning. I was able to have Catherine released from jail and took her home to be with her daughter for Christmas. So, what's next? Where are you in the investigation? How can I help?"

"How did you find out?" I ask, not wanting to answer him until I've made it to the den.

"Kershaw ... he's ordered me to be your investigator."

"My investigator?" I ask.

"Yes, you heard right. You get to call the shots on this one since I can't officially investigate without a national security angle. Kershaw wants me to get my leads from you."

"Kershaw didn't run this past me first, so why I should go along with it?" I question as I sit down behind my desk.

"Because, along with me, you'll get the resources of the agency, which means that I can cover more leads at one time, speeding the whole investigative process so that we can both get back to our lives."

The thought of wrapping up this case so that I can make the trip to the Bahamas with Mac makes his offer too good to pass up.

"I need to know more about the victim. A current or a recent ex-boyfriend might give us a new suspect...or maybe there's an ex-husband with a grudge. Also, find out if she had any issues at work, problems with a co-worker, that sort of thing," I tell him, unsure if he knows about the victim blackmailing Catherine and unwilling to be the one who tells him, especially since, after meeting with Mac this morning, when we combined what she knew about Webb with what I knew about Catherine, we have a theory that Clayton Webb is Catherine's child's father, and that little tidbit is what Catherine was trying so desperately to keep from becoming common knowledge.

"I'll get started on this right away. I'll call you if I find anything," Clay replies.

"Okay ... and Merry Christmas, Webb."

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Rabb."

I end my call with Webb and dial Catherine's cell phone number.

Moments later, I hear the happy voice of Catherine Gale.

"Hello, Harm. I guess you heard that Kershaw helped Clay get me out of jail."

"Yes, I heard. That's actually the reason for my call. It seems that the agency wants to help investigate your case, unofficially of course."

"Of course," she chirps cheerfully.

"I called because I've been informed that Kershaw has put Webb in charge of things on their end, and I need to know how much he knows about your case at this point."

"I told him the same thing that I told you while he was driving me to my brother's place to pick up Elizabeth."

"So Clay doesn't know that she was threatening to reveal that he's her father?"

Harm couldn't see the color drain from her face as his words registered with her. He also didn't know that her first instinct was to deny it, but she remembered that he was bound by attorney/client confidentiality to keep her secret, so she decided be honest with him.

"He read the same reports that you did, so yes, Clay does know that she was blackmailing me, and though he wasn't pleased to find out that I chose to pay her off and not tell him, he certainly understands why I didn't want her to tell anyone who'd listen that he's Elizabeth's father ... and before you ask, yes, he _does _know that he's her father. In fact, we had quite a nice Christmas morning together at my place after he got me out of jail, and though he excused himself to make some phone calls a few minutes ago, we're together now at his mother's house for Christmas dinner."

"Then I'll let you get back to your holiday. Our dinner should soon be ready here, too," I state, not sure what else I should say.

"Harm..." She sounds troubled when she says my name. "...after all I went through to keep it a secret, I have to ask how you found out."

"Figured it out would be more accurate than _found_ it out," I begin. "When I was going over your case with Mac this morning, we speculated as to what would be so important that you'd be willing to not only pay blackmail money, but not tell Kershaw about it, which meant that it was something personal. Then, with the idea that our children would be the only thing that we'd go to such extremes to protect, we started to wonder from what kind of dangers you could be protecting your daughter. That's when we decided that it isn't so much that you don't want anyone to know who her father is, but if someone knew and made the connection with what he _does_, it could be dangerous for both of you, and that's why you want to keep his identity a secret."

"You're exactly right, and since I know that you take your client's privacy very seriously, I know that you won't tell anyone, but can I trust the colonel to keep it a secret?" she asks.

Though I think that she knows the answer, I can't fault her for asking.

"I made her a consulting attorney before we discussed any part of your case, so she's bound by attorney/client confidentiality as well, but I can tell you that, since she's a mother who empathizes with your position, I can promise you that, even without that ethical commitment, she'll take your secret to the grave with her."

"Thank you. Thank you both ... and Merry Christmas."

"You're welcome ... and Merry Christmas. I'll keep you informed of any new information that I get about your case."

After we've said our goodbyes, I hang up the phone and head into the living room to find out who called the house.

**LIVING ROOM**

**1721**

**MAC'S POV**

I was surprised when I got a call from a reporter seeking comments from me about the credit that Mrs. Avery was giving me for helping to reunite her family for Christmas.

Without knowing to what he was referring and only his word that he was a reporter doing a story for the Live at Five news on a local station, I declined to comment beyond saying that I defended Mrs. Avery the way that I would any client.

He told me that, based on what he'd been told by Mrs. Avery, I was being modest and that I should watch his human interest piece on a family reunited in time to celebrate Christmas together tonight on the news.

My entire family gathered in the living room at five o'clock in hopes of at least hearing my name on TV, but twenty minutes into the broadcast, it seems that they've wasted their time as there's been no mention of the Avery family, much less of me.

However, just a minute later, before their last commercial break, they do a teaser for a spot on the Averys.

When the news comes back on, the anchor says, "Now for our final story on this holiday night. Reporter Ed Alvarez brings us a feel-good story about a family reunited for the holidays."

"Thank you," the reporter says as the camera pulls back to reveal that he's sitting to the anchor's right at the news desk.

"Tonight I bring you the story of the Avery family who, almost three weeks ago, were scattered by tragedy, but thanks to someone willing to step in and help Mrs. Avery, the family has been reunited. However, it will be for only a short time since her husband, a Marine Corps major, is home only on leave and must return to Iraq once the New Year arrives. I spoke to Wanda Avery about her four-month-old being hospitalized and then, just hours later, being arrested and having her children removed from her care. All this happened while her husband was away serving his country."

There's a snippet of an interview that was recorded with Wanda, and then the reporter returns to the screen.

"Mrs. Avery told me that, if it weren't for the help of now retired Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, she doesn't believe that she'd be with her children today. The district attorney's office refused to comment on the case and, aside from assuring me that she was only doing her job, Colonel MacKenzie had no other comment for me when I spoke with her earlier today, but the Avery family had plenty to say about the former Marine JAG officer.

They once again switch to part of a prerecorded interview.

When the reporter is back to say more, he talks about the statement that I made to the judge supporting the need to help and not punish my client because it's a tough and often misunderstood job to be married to a man in uniform, but when the reporter ends with repeating what I said, word for word, I'm more than a little surprised. More surprising is the spontaneous applause that my family gives me when the reporter finishes quoting me, which drowns out the reporter signing off.

"Good work, Mac," Harm says, leaning over to kiss my cheek.

"Yeah, Mac. Very nice job," Frank chimes in.

"I thought your speech was accurate and moving, dear," Trish adds.

"The Marines lost one of the good ones when you retired, Sarah," Harm's grandmother says with pride.

I wish that one of my parents had bestowed praise of some kind like this on me when I'd received a good grade or had some other kind of noteworthy achievement because it makes me feel good as an adult, so as a kid, it would've been a real boost to my self-worth.

"Well, thank you all for your kind words," I reply, slightly embarrassed.

"Mom, you've been on TV, so now you're going to be famous and, when we go out, people will want to have your autograph and take your picture," Abigail says excitedly.

"Two minutes on the news isn't the same as being a TV star, so no one is going to want to take my picture," I answer, tickled that my daughter now thinks that I'm a celebrity.

"Well, even movie stars need to eat, so who's ready for dinner?" Trish asks.

Moments later, we're all gathered around the dining table, my recent fame forgotten as we enjoy a wonderful Christmas feast.

**MATTIE'S BEDROOM **

**2140**

**MATTIE'S POV**

I stare into the glass of dark liquid.

'Today was a good day. I don't need this tonight,' I tell myself.

I swirl the contents until a whirlpool forms in the center of the glass.

'Why did Kyle kill himself ... and why did he have to do it over Thanksgiving weekend? Death should take holidays.'

'I'm not going to drink it!' I tell myself.

I put the glass down on the night stand, but the call of the numbing liquid is too powerful, or perhaps I'm just that weak, and I pick it up a few moments later.

'If I don't drink it, I won't be able to sleep,' I remind myself.

I take my first gulp, and find it ironic that Kyle is the one who persauded me to take my first drink. I snort at the irony as I swallow the booze. If I'd never listened to Kyle and gotten drunk at that party ... if only I hadn't had that first drink ... gotten a taste of the numbing effects that alcohol has on your mind and body, I wouldn't be sitting alone in my room drowning the pain, both physical and emotional, in Harm's bourbon.

I drink the remaining amount in two quick gulps before lying back on my mattress, waiting for the elixir to work its magic that will allow me to sleep soundly.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**SAME TIME**

**HARM'S POV**

It's been a long day, and Mac and I enter the bedroom room one behind the other, not really ready for the wonderful day to be over, but since we spent the wee hours of the morning reviewing Catherine's case, we're tired and ready for sleep.

"Though Mattie appeared to be in better spirits than she has been, she still didn't seem happy to be here, did she?" She pauses. "Maybe we should've talked to her about it today," Mac comments as I close the bedroom door behind me.

"I'm sure that she's still up so we could talk to her tonight, but I thought that we agreed that we wanted to wait until she was about to go back to school so that she wouldn't feel cornered and just go along with it. We wanted her to have time to think about it and come to her own decision without feeling pressured," I reply.

"You're right. We did agree. I guess I'm just second guessing that decision...wondering if it would make her feel more like she belongs here if we gave her the papers tonight," Mac says with a sigh.

"If she doesn't already know that she's part of this family, I'm not sure that there's anything that we can do that's going to make her feel differently until she's worked out whatever it is that she's going through right now," I comment as I step up behind Mac and wrap my arms around her waist.

"I agree, but today made me wonder if giving her the papers and letting her know that, though she's too old to be adopted, you - _we _- want her to be a Rabb, too. So, if she wants to...if she's ready, we've got the forms for her to sign and submit," she states, leaning back against me.

"Then I suggest that we get some sleep, and if in the morning after we've slept on it, you still think that we should go ahead and give her the form to change her name, we'll talk to her tomorrow about it," I say before nuzzling her neck and placing the first of what I hope to be many kisses there.

"If we do it tomorrow, though, we have to make sure that we're clear that she doesn't have to decide before we leave on Friday," Mac adds.

You'd think that hearing her mention the trip would make me want her that much more, but I find that it has the opposite effect on me. Perhaps it's because I feel guilty.

"That's if this case doesn't force me to cancel the trip," I state remorsefully, releasing her to let each of us get ready for bed.

"I'll admit that, when you first mentioned it, I wasn't thrilled about being away from Patty, but now that I've had time to think about it, I think that it's a wonderful idea for us to start the New Year with a few days alone. So I'm going to think positively about us being able to take this trip and start making a list of what I need to pack," Mac replies.

"I don't want you to get your hopes up too high," I say, shrugging off my jeans. "Though I will say that things are looking better now that I have two people to help me."

"Two?" she inquires.

"Yes. You, and I didn't want to talk business during the holiday festivities by telling you earlier, but I got a call from Webb today. He's going to look into the victim's background for me to see what he can dig up concerning other possible suspects."

"That answers one question for us. He must know that he's Elizabeth's father for him to be willing to help," Mac comments.

"After Webb called me, I called Catherine to find out how much he knew before sharing any theories that we have about the case, and she confirmed that he _is_ Elizabeth's father and that he knows it. So, the next time that I speak with him, I'll give him an overview of our theory that, because the wineglass with Catherine's fingerprints was next to a second glass that also appeared to have red wine in it, yet there was an open bottle and a partial glass of white wine on the night table in the bedroom where the body was found and, as you pointed out, the outfit that she had on when her body was found suggests that she wasn't planning to spend the night alone, means that Catherine undoubtedly wasn't the last person who saw the victim alive," I explain.

"Do you still want me to find out if the police checked for fingerprints on the wine bottles and ran tests on the scarf to verify that the stains on it were wine?"

"Yes. If we have to ask to have the tests run or have them run by an independent lab, I don't want the police to have any idea that anyone from the CIA is involved in our investigation because it leaves the door open for them to accuse us of planting evidence."

"Then we'd better get to sleep because we've got a lot to do tomorrow," Mac says with a yawn.

"I agree, Mrs. Rabb, but in case I forgot to say it, thank you for one of the best Christmases that I've ever had," I say as I plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you! It was one of the best that I've ever had, too," Mac replies.

"Merry Christmas!" we say in unison to each other as we slip into bed.


	32. Chapter 32

**PART TEN **

**FRIDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2008**

**HOME OF PORTER WEBB**

**0730**

**ELIZABETH'S POV**

I stand looking at the big tree, watching the twinkling lights.

I didn't think that I was going to have a good Christmas at all, but it turned out to be a good one because my mom came back.

Having Daddy home, too, made it a really good Christmas, but what made it the best Christmas is that we all spent the night at Grandma's house, and Mommy and Daddy didn't fight - not once. I even saw them kiss under the mistletoe last night.

This year, I asked Santa to make sure that my daddy was home for Christmas, and he did. Next year, I'm going to ask him to make sure that my mommy and daddy get married so we can be a family all the time.

"Elizabeth..." my mommy says, entering the room. "...I've been looking for you. It's time for breakfast, and we shouldn't keep your father and grandmother waiting."

"Mommy..." I say, wondering if I should ask, but needing to know. "...when you have a good Christmas, do you thank Jesus or Santa?"

**DEN **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1308**

The holiday is definitely over. I'd barely finished a late breakfast with the family when I got a call from Webb, so I've been working on Catherine's case, hoping to come up with some clever defense strategy to compensate for the fact that I have no new information to use to put holes in their case.

I doubt that it's the way that she knocks, but I know when I hear the rap on the door that it's Mac.

The reason why I know is because I've been in here too long for her not to ask how long I'm going to work today since there are other things that she and the family have planned for us to do while I'm on leave from my Pentagon job.

"Enter," I call out, shuffling some papers.

The door opens, and Mac enters.

Once she's closed the door behind her, she asks, "Was Webb able to give you anything that'll help?"

"No, his information just added to the mystery."

"How's that?"

"He ran the victim's social security number through the IRS data base and found that, before she got the job at the beginning of the school year, she had no previous work history. A search of the name Eva Levine through any databases that he can access without a national security angle yielded too many leads to trace quickly, and that's providing that she'd been using her real name. Since that snafu a few years back in the medical examiners office over a body that they'd misidentified, it's now standard practice to fingerprint all the autopsied bodies and to take dental x-rays for their files, so Webb is having copies sent to him and will run the victim's prints through police, INS, State Department and Interpol databases to see if they get a hit on the name that she was using or another name. If or when he gets anything worth passing along, he said that he'd give me a call."

"Then you're free to take care of some family business because the little ones are all down for their naps, and Abigail and Tyler are occupying their grandparents."

The way that she said it, I'm not sure if it was an observation or a question.

"She went to her room right after breakfast, so unlike last night when I wasn't sure, I definitely think that we should talk to her today," Mac comments.

I have no doubt that wasn't a question, but a request to speak with Mattie now.

"I can work on this later, so there's no time like the present," I say, pushing against the desk to stand.

**MATTIE'S ROOM**

**1315**

**MATTIE'S POV**

I hear the tap on the door, and Harm says from the other side, "Mattie?"

"Just a minute," I say to give myself time to scan the room for any signs that will tip them off to the fact that I've been drinking in here.

Satisfied that there are no clues for them to discover, I call out from my perched position on the bed, "Come in."

Harm enters, followed by Mac.

"What's up?" I ask, trying to remain my usual, casual self, despite the seriousness of the look on his face and my fear that he's about to confront me about the bourbon that's missing from the bottle that he keeps in the den.

"We've been struggling with what would be the best time to talk to you about this, but after debating it again this morning, we feel that there's always going to be some reason why it doesn't seem like the right time. So we've decided that we're just going to say what we want to say and let you come to us if and when you're ready to discuss it further," Harm says before lifting a manila envelope into my view. "

His serious tone is making me seriously nervous.

"What's in there?" I ask, eyeing the envelope apprehensively, but curiously.

"Legal documents ..." Harm begins. "We thought that it was time for us to make sure that you understood that, no matter what, you're our daughter and we love you, and as a gesture to show you how much we do think of you as a member of this family -"

"Now if you don't want to, we understand ... or if you think that not enough time has passed since your father's death and you aren't ready, you don't have to do it now or at all, but if you do - _ever_ - just tell us," Mac adds nervously, interrupting Harm.

"As you know, only minors can be adopted, so legally adopting you is out, but there's still a way to make you a Rabb, which is to have your last name legally changed."

Finally, I know what they're talking about.

"You could even use Johnson-Rabb with a hyphen," Mac adds.

"Or Rabb-Johnson to have Rabb in your name. The choice is up to you. Though as long as you know that we see you as ours, it's okay with us if you remain Matilda Johnson. We just want you to know that you aren't alone. You do have a family who loves you regardless of what your last name is ... but we thought that, if it'll help you to remember that you're part of this family, we'd just make you a Rabb, too," Harm says sincerely.

"Can I change the Matilda part?" I ask with a smile.

Harm gives me a parental eye, complete with a raised eyebrow, which means no.

"We know that we just sprung this on you, so we want you to think about it, and there's no rush for you to make a decision," Mac adds.

"I've got some work to do on my case so that I can take that trip with Mac, so we'll let you get back to what you were doing before we came in ..." Harm says as he moves to my bedroom door. "...but when you've made a decision, whatever it is and whenever it is, you let us know."

Mac leans over and hugs me and then exits the room after Harm.

It felt good when they told me that they wanted to make me a Rabb, but looking down at the envelope that they left with me, now I feel guilty for disappointing them.

I could use a drink, but if they're working, they'll be in the den, and I won't be able to get in there to get to his bottle without revealing myself.

He doesn't drink often, and with Grandpa here, I figure that, even if he gets the bottle and notices that there's less in it, he'll just think that Grandpa has been having a night cap.

They love me.

I love them.

I'm so screwed up right now.

I don't deserve parents like them.

What am I going to do now? I say, flopping back onto the mattress without thought, which hurts my neck, and I flinch involuntarily.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2121 **

**MAC'S POV**

Propped up in bed waiting on Harm to join me, I've watched him change into his pajama pants, but then he confuses me by putting on his robe.

"Where are you going?" I ask in a tone just above a whisper, listening for a sound that I might not have heard, which would explain why he's got on more attire than necessary for coming to bed.

"Since I'm going to be out of the house for a while tomorrow on the usual weekend errands, I thought that I'd spend a little time in the den before going to bed."

I find it curious, make that suspicious that he didn't say that he was going to work on the case, especially since his eyes darted back and forth while he spoke and didn't remain fixed on mine.

Trying to get to the bottom of it quickly, I ask, "Did you get another call from Webb that I don't know about, one that gave you some usable information that you want to review tonight?"

"No. There were only two. The one when he told me that her lack of work history made him curious, and the one just before dinner when he told me that he was having the same problem that you encountered with offices being closed, closing early or being minimally staffed because of the holidays, making information gathering slow to nearly impossible, which is causing him more aggravation since he's used to using the company to open doors for him to get a principal to come into the school, wake up a judge ... whatever he needs to do. However, without a national security angle, he can't get permission to pull people in from their time off or to push the ME's office to deliver the victim's ID information as quickly as he'd like it. Instead, he has to fill out a request and let it be processed the way the rest of us mere mortals do, which, because it's the holiday season, means that he won't have anything new until late Monday at the earliest."

This time he answered me while looking me in the eye.

"If you don't have anything new, going to the den to review the case is just going to stir up all that information in your head, and you won't get to sleep again tonight. Try coming to bed without thinking about the case to see if that helps you to get a decent night's sleep. Then, rested, we can get up early and go over it from top to bottom again in the morning."

"The case isn't why I'm going in there tonight. That isn't to say that I might not have a look at it while I'm in there waiting..." he confesses before breaking eye contact with me.

Questioning him isn't necessary. My puzzled look is enough for him to continue.

"I don't want you to think that I'm lying to you or trying to mislead you, so that's why I'm telling you that my primary reason for going to the den isn't to look over the case, but I'm being intentionally evasive about why I'm actually going in there because I don't think that you'll approve, and I'd much rather apologize to you later than argue with you about whether or not it's the right thing to do," he says before moving swiftly to our bedroom door.

"Wait, Harm," I say scrambling to get out of bed, prepared to follow him if necessary to find out what he's planning to do.

He stops.

"Look, Mac..." he begins, and the 'fire' that I see in his eyes tells me that he's willing to do battle with me if I disagree. "...based on your suspicions, I thought that it was better to be safe than sorry, so I marked the bottle of bourbon that I keep on the bookshelf."

Den...marked bottle...it comes together for me.

"Mattie's been drinking while she's been here? Are you sure? It could be Frank," I say, trying to offer another explanation.

"Trying to give her the benefit of the doubt ... maybe I was just trying to drag it out until after Christmas to find out ... whatever my motivation ... for the last few days, I've been checking every few hours, and there's no change in the level all day or at night when I check it before coming to bed. It's only lower first thing in the morning," he informs me.

Now realizing that Catherine's case hasn't been the only thing that's been keeping him up at night, I ask, "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"In denial ... didn't want to ruin Christmas ... maybe it was that I needed to process it first myself ... perhaps I just wanted to wait until after we gave her the option of becoming a Rabb," he answers with incomplete sentences and somewhat distracted as if his mind and mouth aren't in the same place. "I know that you suspected, but, once I knew ... I tried not to jump to a worst case scenario. After all, I drank when I was a youth, but I didn't become an alcoholic. You drank and you did. She's in college. Parties are a part of that life, but drinking daily while you're home on Christmas break? I just don't think that's a sign that she's okay." He lets out a heavy sigh. "I don't want to be too confrontational because it'll just keep her from coming home, and then we may never get to the bottom of why she feels that she needs to drink. On the other hand, our daughter probably has a drinking problem, and we can't just pretend that she doesn't or ignore it and hope it goes away. So I'm going to go to the den in hopes that she doesn't come in, but I'm prepared to let her know that we don't approve of her drinking."

"I told you that I'd talk to her, so I'll wait for her in the den tonight," Mac offers.

"No, she may need someone to talk to who she feels will understand. If I confront her alone, she can be angry with me, and I can hope that she'll seek out your advice," he tells me, reaching for the doorknob.

"She may not be ready to admit that she has a problem or to open up to anyone," I warn before he opens our bedroom door.

"Don't wait up," is the last thing that he says before he steps into the hall, closing the door behind him.

**DEN**

**2330**

**HARM'S POV**

"Damn it! It should be right here!" This is what I hear that wakes me.

Lying in wait with the lights out, I must have dozed off in my desk chair while waiting for Mattie.

I flick on my desk lamp.

Mattie's look is a cross between surprised and petrified as her eyes meet mine.

"I believe that this is what you're looking for," I say, pointing to the bottle on my desk.

I see a flash in her eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I came in here to get a book."

"I might believe that except that you'd have turned on the light, and there wouldn't be any reason for you to have that glass in your hand if you were in here to get a book, either."

Now she looks dazed, no doubt trying to process her next move since my presence is a surprise to her and she wasn't prepared for this impromptu meeting.

"Go ahead and pour yourself some," I say with a shrug of my shoulders.

"Really?" she questions skeptically as she moves closer to the desk.

"Why not?" I inquire.

"Because you're such a rule follower and I'm not twenty-one yet," she replies.

"That's a very good reason why I shouldn't, but I might be willing to make an exception..."

Now she looks confused.

I snatch the bottle off the desk, gripping it so tightly that my knuckles turn white. "...if it's the last drink that you ever have!" My tone is angry and intentionally harsh.

She swallows hard.

"You don't need to be this way. I don't drink a lot. My father couldn't stop. He was a drunk. I'm not like him," she spits out defensively.

"You don't have to get drunk to have a drinking problem." I put the bottle down on the desk to reach into the pocket of my robe.

Pushing the pamphlet from AA across the desk towards her, I inform her, "Having to have a drink daily or drinking alone are among the warning signs that you could have a problem with alcohol."

Then I stand up and grab my bourbon.

"What are you going to do with it?" Mattie asks, motioning in the direction of the bottle.

"Pour it down the drain. You've had your last drink in this house!"

"Are you kicking me out?" she asks with a sniffle as I round the corner of my desk.

"No. Like I said earlier today, you're my daughter...no matter what. Now, I know that you're an adult and I can't make you go to AA or make you talk to me about why you think that booze is the answer to your problems, but as one of my kids, no matter how old you are, if you're doing something that's dangerous, self-destructive and/or has the potential to ruin your life, I'm going to call you on it. So now you know that I know, and I challenge you to take the assessment in the pamphlet, and if you don't have a problem, great, but if you do, then it's up to you to fix it. However, know that Mac and I are here to support and help you in any way that we can."

"So Mac put you up to this?" she questions angrily. "I'm not my father and I'm not her!"

"No one put me up to anything. Being your dad and hoping that you'll hear what I have to say and not have to hit rock bottom ... that I got to you in time to spare you the harshness of the reality of where you could be if you don't stop drinking now is what made me wait for you in here tonight - nothing else but loving you."

She's rigid and angry, so I don't even try to hug her.

"You weren't going to let me have a drink even if I agreed that it would be my last, were you?" Mattie asks, as if my deception is worse than her drinking.

"No, I wasn't," I reply honestly before leaving the room with the bottle in my hand.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2347**

I enter our bedroom and slip into bed.

Once settled back on the mattress, Mac moves closer to me as she softly asks, "How'd it go?"

"As expected..." I reply softly as I wrap my arm around her. "The ball is in her court now. We'll just have to wait to see if she wants help."

I feel the movement of her head as she nods in understanding as she rests it on my shoulder.

"Harm, is there anything else that I should know ... anything that you've been holding in that's been keeping you from sleeping?" she asks, her concern evident in her voice.

"Nothing as big as a case of murder or my daughter having an alcohol problem, but there is something else that's been on my mind since Christmas Eve."

She lifts her head to look at me, eager for me to unburden myself.

"When I was at The Wall, I didn't have a lot to say to my dad. I was even a little uncomfortable talking to him this time, which has me wondering if being away the last couple of years and not visiting him there made me uncomfortable with being there this year."

"Could it be that you've finally grieved and you're able to remember him and not relive the day that you lost him every year?" Mac questions, offering me a positive reason for my unusual feeling when visiting my father.

"It could be," I acknowledge because it's one possibility that I'd come up with, too.

Silence fills the room, but it isn't long before Mac speaks again.

**MAC'S POV**

Being "over" his father's death, he should be feeling better, but with so many other things on his mind, he can't be at peace.

"Harm, it's going to be okay. The holidays may have slowed us down, but we'll get what we need to clear Catherine," I offer first, not because it's the most important to him, but because it's the item that I feel that we're most likely to accomplish first.

"I'm sure we will."

Though he gave a positive response, he doesn't sound confident, and that isn't like him.

I doubt that his tone is because he's lacking in ego over his ability as an attorney, but rather that he's too worried about Mattie to be feeling cocky about anything.

"Good night, Mac," he says softly through a yawn, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Good night, Harm," I whisper back, hoping that my husband will soon be able to get a night of restful sleep.


	33. Chapter 33

**PART ELEVEN**

**MONDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2008**

**DEN **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**LATE EVENING**

With everyone in their rooms - not that Mattie had been out of hers today - either asleep, in the case of the young children, or getting ready for bed, Harm sat down at his desk to review information that he'd been given today about the case.

Webb had received the victim's fingerprints from the medical examiner's office and had been able to positively ID them as belonging to an Eva Levine. Better yet, her prints had been registered with several agencies because she'd worked overseas as a teacher on several U.S. military bases and at U.S. embassies across Europe until taking the job last year at the local prestigious private school.

After Webb had discovered this information, he called Harm to let him know that she'd been using her real name and that the investigation might take a while if he had to go overseas to look for any skeltons in her closet, especially since, without her passport, he'd have only her work history by which to track her, meaning that, if there were gaps in her employment, he wouldn't know where to look. It was then that Harm informed him that he could get her passport for the investigation because it was listed as an item that had been collected at the crime scene because it was with the victim's hidden stash of cash, which had also been taken in as evidence.

Once Harm had secured the passport, Webb had found something that he could use to put a national security spin on things that would give him carte blanche to gather information under the umbrella of Homeland Security.

Among her travels around Europe, she'd visited the Middle East three months prior to 9/11. Webb then suggested to Kershaw that there could be a terrorist connection, which warranted CIA involvement. So, before the end of the day, Webb had backing from 'the company' to root out information by whatever means necessary, and that was certainly going to speed up the investigation.

For Mac's part, her phone calls paid off when the fax machine came to life mid-day, putting copies of reports from the crime lab about the scarf and the wine bottles.

The blotches on the scarf had been tested, and it had been found that red wine, along with trace elements found in cosmetics, was definitely the purple stains on the scarf.

Both wine bottles had been dusted for fingerprints, too. The red wine, a cheap burgundy, had only the victim's fingerprints. However, when it came to the expensive bottle of white wine on her bedside table, they'd found several of the victim's fingerprints and, in one spot, they'd found an unreadable print. With the position of the victim's fingerprints, the logical conclusion was made that she'd been the last one to grasp the bottle, perhaps to refill the glass sitting next to the bottle on her night table. Therefore her print was layered over the print below, making it unreadable.

Without being able to run the fingerprint because they couldn't get a clean lift of it, the crime lab report noted a point of great interest to the case.

The notation read: Though, with our current equipment, the second print cannot be lifted for identification, it is believed that, based on size comparison when measured against the top known female print, the underlying print belongs to a man. However, there is no way of knowing how long the print has been there, thus there is no way to establish a time line as to when the unknown print could've been placed on the bottle, aside from being sure that the unknown person was not the last person to hold it.

There were two things in that notation that struck a chord with Mac, "their current equipment" and "belongs to a man".

The first meant that the equipment to separate the two prints existed, just not in the Metro police crime lab. The second meant that there was a possibility that there was a male suspect.

In hopes of learning more about the second, Mac knew that they needed to know more about the fingerprint, and a call to the FBI lab in Quantico, Virginia, gave her what they needed, the technology to lift and then separate them into two readable prints.

**WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2008 **

**WEBB'S OFFICE**

**CIA HEADQUARTERS**

**0857**

With the weight of the CIA behind him, it hadn't taken long for Webb and a team that he'd hand-selected to put together a dossier on the life of Eva Levine from birth to the present. Then he'd begun to pour over all the details of the woman's life with a fine-toothed comb, looking for a boyfriend, another person who she might have been blackmailing or anyone else who might have had a motive to kill her.

Early this morning, one of the team had interviewed the school's headmaster and found that the father of one of the students had recommended Eva Levine for a teaching position at the school. The student's name was Russell Tomlin. His father was Harry Tomlin.

Upon checking the personnel files, Webb found that Russell's father was in fact the same Harry Tomlin who'd been filling in for Director Kershaw when the director had been called out of town.

Knowing that Catherine was being blackmailed, it made sense that Tomlin was the missing piece that tied it all together since he'd have access to personal information from personnel files.

Of course, there was a bigger risk if it was Tomlin because he had access to operatives' locations, current operations and other sensitive material.

Before he accused a fellow agent of treason, Webb needed to find the answers to a few questions: How did Tomlin and Levine know each other? Where did they meet? How were they connected? Was it possible that Levine was operating on her own, or was Tomlin in on the blackmail?

Thinking that, if Tomlin was the one responsible for blackmailing Catherine and framing her for murder, not only hurting her but their daughter as well, Webb's first reaction was to go to Tomlin's office and confront him, but that would only tip him off and perhaps give him time to cover his tracks.

Webb leaned back in his chair, trying to come up with a way that would discreetly yield the answers that he needed.

Moments later, as he was formulating a plan, his phone rang.

It was his direct line, one that didn't go through the switchboard.

"Special Agent Webb."

"Webb, this is Smith with the FBI."

Clayton Webb sat up straight. He didn't often have interaction with the FBI because of the history between the two agencies. There was usually more jockeying for control of the mission than getting the job done, and with the use of his private line to reach him...this definitely wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"What is it, Smith?" Clay tried not to sound superior, but between his upbringing and the fact that he viewed most FBI agents as having been rejected by the CIA, it was a difficult task. However, he'd worked with Smith before, and if he were forced to say something nice, he'd say that he was a damned good agent, which made it a little easier to sound friendly.

"I just got a hit on a fingerprint in a murder case. I'm calling you first because it belongs to one of your guys. I thought that you might want to 'handle it' internally before the report reaches the person who requested it."

That had Webb's attention.

"Tell me what you've got, Smith."

**DEN **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0950**

**MAC'S POV**

"What is it, Harm?" I ask nervously since he'd come to the kitchen to get me and bring me in here to talk after he'd received a call from Webb.

"Our trip may be on after all," he comments, not really answering my question, but, at the same time, letting me know that Webb had told him something that leads him to believe that he may be able to wrap up Catherine's case soon.

He takes me in his arms and plants a kiss on me that makes me so weak in the knees that, when he pulls his lips back from mine, I almost forget why we came in here.

Breathlessly, I inquire, "Solved the case, did you?"

"With your help, we did." He sounds so sure until he adds, "We must have."

"Now I'm confused. Did we or didn't we? What exactly did Webb say?" I ask, hoping to gain clarity.

"He said that the FBI was able to identify the obscure print on the wine bottle, and it got a hit in the system. He said that he had to verify a few things, but that he wanted me on standby because, if all went well, he'd be giving me a call and rounding up a judge to hear the evidence so that the charges could be dropped against Catherine before the New Year, making our New Year weekend plans back on."

"Why would the FBI notify him of whose prints they were when I'm the one who requested they run them? I never mentioned to them that the CIA was in on the investigation," I say, puzzled by the situation and irked that the FBI would do such a thing.

"Good question. Maybe Webb told them that he was working the case ... but it doesn't really matter to me. I'm just glad that we're going to have the opportunity to have a few days alone to relax."

Not wanting to be a wet blanket, I decide to just go with the flow and be thankful that it looks like the situation is going to be resolved today, and that Catherine won't have this hanging over her head as we enter the New Year.

**DIRECTOR KERSHAW'S OFFICE**

**CIA HEADQUARTERS**

**1158**

**HARRY TOMLIN'S POV**

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" I ask, stepping into the director's office and finding he and Agent Webb looking less than cordial.

"Agent Webb has some questions for you," Kershaw says, turning the meeting over to Webb.

"Where were you on the night of December 14th?"

"It all runs together at this time of year, so, who remembers? No doubt I was at some party or Christmas shopping. Why?" I reply without a hint as to the importance of that day.

"Do you know an Eva Levine?" Webb asks.

"I do. She's a teacher at the school where my youngest attends. Why?"

"I hazard to guess that you knew her better than that," Kershaw huffs.

"What makes you say that?" I inquire, furrowing my brow to appear confused in order to mask any involuntary change in faical expression that might give them a hint that I think I know where this line of questioning is headed, and I certainly don't want to give away any clues concerning my involvement when this may be only a fishing expedition.

"I did some checking. She was a teacher at our embassy in Rome while you were station chief there. That's where the two of you met."

"Is that a question?" I ask, not willing to admit to anything, even simple facts until I know for sure what they know.

"Kershaw, don't you find it interesting that, within three weeks of his transfer here from Italy, she had a job at his child's school that was based on his recommendation?" Webb questions, looking at the director.

"I do, unless...it would certainly be a way to bring your mistress to town, wouldn't it?"

Webb and Kershaw are speaking to each other as if I'm not in the room, but now Webb turns and looks at me.

"That _is_ what you did...got your girlfriend a job so that she could follow you here, didn't you?"

**WEBB'S POV**

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tomlin says flatly in response, though the beads of sweat appearing on his brow tells me that we're on the right track.

"My guess is that your affair was going well, until ... what happened, Tomlin? Did you find out that she was using your pillow talk to blackmail people, or did she try to blackmail you? Did she threaten to tell your wife so you had to kill her?"

I pause only very briefly to observe his body language.

"I must say that you did a pretty good job of cleaning up after yourself. I'll give you that, but you forgot something," I state calmly. "My guess is that it was more of an oversight than an error on your part. You'd given her the bottle of wine on a previous visit. It didn't dawn on you that it could have one of your fingerprints on it when you were removing the other evidence from her apartment."

Kershaw and I watch the color drain from Tomlin's face, and we know that standing in front of us is the man who killed Eva Levine.

"You and Kershaw are just trying to pin this on me to save your precious Ms. Gale," Agent Tomlin spits out defensively, but his anger and eagerness to deflect blame causes him to make a critical error when he adds, "Wanting to save your child's mother, I understand, but why are you so interested in saving her skin, Kershaw? Have you had a piece of that pie, too?"

I react as a man and a father, not an agent, and grab the fifty-four-year-old by his suit lapels. "You sorry piece of - "

"Let him go, Webb!" Kershaw orders.

"Why, Sir?" I ask.

"Call security. We don't have enough for an arrest. However, there is enough here for me to 'scoot' him until you finish connecting the dots so that he can be arrested."

I let go of Tomlin while Kershaw continues to speak because, knowing that scoot is the code word for fired, though not punishment enough for what he's done, it's a good start.

"You're done here, Tomlin, but I'll give you an option. Tell us what else, aside from personal information you shared with your mistress. What operations or agents did you compromise?" Kershaw is angry, and Tomlin knows it.

"I'd never betray my country or my fellow agents!" Tomlin says defensively.

"Is that all you have to say?" Kershaw asks.

There's no verbal response from Tomlin, so Kershaw looks at me and says, "Make the call to get him erased from the agency ... and start the scramble. I don't want to find out too late that he isn't telling the truth when we lose an agent or an operation goes south because of his inability to keep his mouth shut when he's with a woman."

"Yes, Sir."

**OUTSIDE THE COURTHOUSE**

**VIRGINIA CRIMINAL COURT**

**1434**

**HARM'S POV**

"I can't believe that I'm a free woman. Thank you," Catherine says appreciatively before kissing me on the cheek.

"I didn't work alone on this one," I reply, lifting my hand that's holding my briefcase to indicate the man who's coming up the steps towards us.

"How'd it go?" Webb asks as he reaches us.

I don't know if it was because of their personal connection or to maintain his anonimity in open court, but Agent Webb opted not to be in the courtroom to witness first-hand how things turned out.

"The judge agreed that, with the new evidence, the prosecution's case was full of holes and dismissed the charges against Catherine."

"Thanks, Rabb," Webb says, extending his hand.

"After the help that Catherine gave me in the past, I'm glad that I could return the favor, so there's no reason to thank me," I say, reaching out to grasp Webb's hand.

"Clay, do you think that you could take me home?" Catherine asks. Seeking comfort or warmth, she moves close to him, and he doesn't shy away.

"Of course and, if you don't mind, I'd like to stay for a bit to spend some time with you and Elizabeth."

"I don't mind at all," she responds, her eyes sparkling.

"Happy New Year, Harm," Catherine and Webb say in unison as they look at each other.

To my surprise, they actually look like they're in love.

"Happy New Year to you as well," I reply before Webb turns to leave.

"I think that 2009 may be the best year that I've had in a while," Catherine says with a wink, looking back at me before starting down the steps behind Webb.

**SHADOWLANDS MOTEL**

**ALONG THE INTERSTATE**

**VIRGINIA **

**1755**

Since it appeared that an agent was involved, Kershaw had wasted no time in gaining jurisdiction of Eva Levine's murder case, and a search of the Tomlin home for anything that connected the suspect to the victim had been in progress before Tomlin had even been "processed out" of the CIA.

Though they didn't find any incriminating evidence, his wife was furious at the invasion of their privacy and demanded to know why they were there. The men didn't respond directly to her, but they did talk among themselves, making sure that she overheard them while they performed their duties. It was part of the plan to find out as much as they could as quickly as they could, and a betrayed woman is often happy to supply useful information to an investigator.

Having learned of her husband's affair and of the possibility that he'd murdered his mistress, Mrs. Tomlin asked her husband to leave the moment that he got home, not waiting to hear that he'd lost his job. Quite frankly, even if she hadn't had a bag packed for him and had heard about his unemployment, she wouldn't have cared then. Her own pain at the destruction of their fifteen-year marriage was too fresh and raw for her to care about how he was feeling after losing his job.

Though Harry Tomlin knew that his actions were responsible for him being in his current predicament, he wasn't sure how he'd ended up at this run-down old place.

Maybe he'd thought that this place was too obscure for anyone to find him, yet he knew that they would've followed him. No agent left the company, willingly or otherwise, who wasn't watched for days. Then their lives were monitored for months, sometimes even years depending on the sensitivity of the material to which they'd been privy.

The names that his wife had called him as she'd thrown him out of the house had cut deeply, but it was Kershaw's suggestion that he'd spilled more than what had amounted to little more than office gossip, secrets important to national security that had cut far deeper.

What if he'd been so caught up in Eva that he'd unknowingly let something slip? Had he ever taken any work to her apartment?

He'd been living with the guilt of killing the woman whom he'd loved and he was sad that his marriage was over and that his affair would hurt his children, but he couldn't fathom how he'd feel if he found out that he'd cost an agent his life or that a mission had failed because of something that he'd let slip.

'No, he wouldn't have. He _couldn't_ have said anything' he thought as he sat down at the desk in the room with a bottle of cheap whiskey to write his wife a letter of apology before he went to bed.

**MIDNIGHT**

As fireworks burst over Chesapeake Bay at midnight, and bells from a nearby church rang in the New Year, the life drained out of former agent Harry Tomlin.

The killer just watched as the drunken man swung from the ceiling.

"Sorry about the timing, but death doesn't take holidays," the assassin whispered, checking for the man's pulse and leaving immediately after he was sure that he'd completed his mission.

Seven minutes later while driving down the road, the man dialed a number using a prepaid, disposable cell phone.

"Mission accomplished," the assassin reported.

"Any problems?"

"No, in fact it couldn't have gone better. He'd written a letter to his wife that read like a suicide note."

"Good work!" the man replied before the line went dead.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0015**

**HARM'S POV**

Though it's technically the first day of January 2009, the difference between the day and the eve to the start of the New Year is blurred because we haven't been to bed yet.

After sharing a champagne toast with Frank, Trish and my grandmother at midnight - Mac had had sparkling grape juice - and cleaning up a bit in the kitchen, I'm now in our room getting ready for bed when Mac comes in from checking on Patty.

"What did you do with the leftover champagne?" Mac asks after closing the bedroom door.

"I made sure that neither Mom nor Frank wanted to take a glass to bed with them and then I poured out the rest of it. Why?" I answer.

"Since it isn't something that you've had to be careful about before, I just wanted to make sure that you hadn't left it out somewhere that Mattie might find it."

"There are no open bottles of anything in the house," I inform her.

"She may resort to opening them and not just drinking from ones that are already open," she counters.

"I'm hoping that she'll come to us before that, though that might be wishful thinking since she hasn't spoken to me or even come out of her room for more than a few minutes since I spoke to her the other night."

"I know that your case is over, but are you sure that you want to leave town while she's vulnerable like this?" Mac asks.

"No. I don't want to leave her, but since we can't do anything to help her until she admits that she has a problem, I'm not willing to put us on hold until she's ready. So, we're going on to the Bahamas on Friday unless she comes to us in the meantime and tells us that she needs our help..." I state with authority, but doubt that I'm doing the right thing soon takes over, and I speak again, asking for her guidance. "...unless you don't think that we should go."

"I haven't been on this side of alcoholism before, so I'm not sure what the right thing is to do. I say that we plan to go, but if she comes to us for help or ..."

By the time Mac runs down the exceptions that she can think of, I'm wondering if she really thinks that we ought to go and suggest, "Let's sleep on it and decide in the morning."

"Okay," she answers simply. "Good night, Harm," she says, slipping into bed.

"Good night, Mac," I return before she administers a soft kiss to my lips.

* * *

Before drifting to sleep, Harm lay in bed wondering what fate had in store for him and his family during this New Year. Would it bring health and happiness or sickness and sorrow, or maybe some of each?

* * *

I know that this doesn't wrap up all story points, but it was intentional. I'm already writing the next story, so stay tuned.


	34. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER FORTY-ONE - Right Where We Belong**

**PART ONE**

**THURSDAY, JANUARY 1, 2009**

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1307**

**HARM'S POV**

I come out into the living room from putting Sami and Matthew down for their naps to find my mother and my wife slipping into their coats.

"Where are the two of you headed?"

"With the weatherman forecasting snow, I thought that we should stock up on a few things like batteries for the flashlights, candles, and perhaps a few extra non-perishable pantry items, unless you have some MRE's stashed under our bed that we can eat if the power goes out," Mac says teasingly.

Mac is in surprisingly good spirits, especially since it's more than just snow but rather a blizzard that's predicted to arrive during the night, which means that our flight tomorrow is very likely to be either severely delayed or cancelled.

"No, sorry, you're out of luck. I don't have any hidden rations," I joke back, though I'm not in a jovial mood because I'm aggravated by the timing of this storm.

A delay of a day or more wouldn't make it much of a vacation, and since we can't extend our stay passed Monday because I'm scheduled to return to work on Tuesday, it would seem that we're going to be "stranded" at home for our 'getaway' weekend.

"...and she invited me to go with her," my mother adds.

That may have been all that my mother said, but I can't be sure since I was lost in a moment of sorrow over our spoiled plans.

"The wind is already starting to pick up, so there's no reason why the two of you have to go out in this weather. If you'll give me the list, I'll go get the supplies that you think we'll need."

**MAC'S POV**

It's a sweet offer, but one that I can't accept because going out for a few supplies to make sure that we're storm-prepared isn't the only reason why I want to go out, nor is having Trish's company the sole reason why I invited her to come along.

"The list is in my head," I say, hoping that alone is enough to keep him from wanting to go in our place.

"Then, if you'll jot it down, I'll go," Harm says, repeating his offer.

Though I'd never admit it to him for fear of hurting his feelings, the idea of our trip being canceled isn't as upsetting to me because I wasn't real happy about leaving Patty - even with her grandparents - while she's so young. However, I heard the disappointment in his voice at missing the opportunity to go away with me when he first voiced the news that the weather might alter our plans, and appreciating that my husband, who in his own way told me that he needs some of my attention by purchasing the tickets in the first place, inspired me to come up with a plan to give him some of my undivided attention if we end up staying at home. However, to make it special requires that I go out for a couple of things, and I asked Trish to join me so that I could clue her in on my alternate plan and enlist her help.

"Thank you, but we're ready to head out the door, plus taking time to make the list would cost valuable shopping time."

"So you aren't going for just batteries and candles." He raises an eyebrow and then asks teasingly, "Do you really need a new pair of shoes before you're snowed in?"

"Ha, Ha. You think you're so funny," I say, tossing my head back as if insulted by his question.

"Don't be like that," he says, reaching out and grabbing my arm. "I was only teasing you," he says as if he thinks that I don't know that. "You go and have a good time, but be careful out there..." He smiles and then adds, "...and be home before the streetlights come on."

His smile tells me that he remembers the time when I was the one delivering that same line before his eye surgery about him being back on board a carrier before nightfall.

I smile at him with such admiration because he remembers times before we were a couple with such fondness.

"If we don't get going, we aren't going to get anywhere before the storm rolls in," Trish says, breaking our spell when I realize that I'm staring into his eyes and hadn't even remembered that there was another person in the room with us

"Yes, we should get going," I say as I break eye contact with him.

He kisses me on the cheek before he begins to release me.

Just then, Harm's grandmother comes into the room and says, "Oh good, I caught you before you left. There's something that I just discovered that I need, and since you're going out any way -"

"What can we pick up for you, Sarah?" Trish inquires, asking before I can.

"Cooking sherry...I don't use it often so I thought there was plenty, but I'm sure glad I checked to make sure I had everything I need to make dinner tonight because I discovered that there isn't much left.

"No, problem. We'll pick up some for you," Trish says while I look at Harm, offering a silent apology for not thinking about hiding or pouring out the cooking sherry.

**NEAR THE FOOD COURT**

**TYSON'S CORNER MALL**

**TYSON'S CORNER, VIRGINIA**

**1435**

Now finished with my shopping, Trish's suggestion repeats in my head.

When I was about to enter a lingerie shop, she'd said, "I don't want you to feel rushed to pick out something. Why don't you go ahead and take your time to shop? I have my cell phone so you can call me when you've finished in this store, and if we have time after we've finished our shopping, I could use a good latte before we get snowed in."

Pulling out my cell phone to call Trish while remembering her comment and the look on her face, I believe that her disinterest in going into the intimate apparel store with me as I searched for something special that I could wear for my husband, whether we're at home or away this weekend, had less to do with the amount of time that she thought it would take and more to do with her not wanting to know if her son was the was the kind of man who was turned on by silk and garters or leather and chains.

My cell phone in hand, I dial Trish's number.

A smile comes to my face as I think that, if time hadn't really been her issue, I could've eased her mind by sharing with her that, though Harm's mentioned that he likes me in red, he's a healthy male who needs for me to show only a little skin and a lot of interest or a lot of skin and a little interest to get him in the mood. So any clothing option is more about what I feel comfortable or sexy in than about his preferences.

As my connected call rings for the second time, I see someone who not only do I recognize but I realize that I must talk to this person right this very minute, despite any weather perils that may arise by a later departure from the mall.

I disconnect from my attempt to reach Trish by pressing a button on my cell phone because speaking with him now is far more important than finding out if she's ready to meet me for that latte.

Moving quickly to catch up to the young man who I spotted looking into a window across the mall, I'm shaken by the fact that I didn't think of calling and asking him if he knows what might be going on with Mattie.

I know that Harm and I had a lot on our plates, but... Close enough to him now, I abandon my guilt over not thinking of it sooner and call out to him to get his attention.

"Kevin!"

He stops.

He heard me and he's looking in my direction.

"Kevin," I repeat, having hurried closely enough to him that we're at a normal conversational distance from each other.

"Mrs. Rabb, how are you?" Mattie's friend asks while looking over my shoulder.

He's personable, but I don't have his attention.

"I'm glad that I spotted you. I really need to speak with you about something."

"You and Mrs. Roberts have another job for me?" he asks, giving me his complete attention.

"No," I answer, and his attention is immediately drawn to something that's going on behind me. "I'd like to speak to you about Mattie."

Hoping that he's locked onto the food court, I offer, "I'd be happy to buy you something to eat or drink while we talk."

"Now isn't a good time, Mrs. Rabb," he says as the corners of his mouth begin to turn up into a beaming smile.

He waves to someone, and I turn to see a young lady waving back at him.

Her smile matches his.

"Look, Kevin, Mattie isn't speaking to us, and Harm and I know that something's wrong, but we don't know what it is. Please tell me what you can about what's going on with her or where I might look to find the answer, and I can be gone before your friend gets over here."

I see a flash of conflict in Kevin's eyes. I just don't know him well enough to know if he's apprehensive about speaking to me here with the young woman approaching or if he's torn between speaking with me and his loyalty to Mattie as her friend.

"She's got a lot going on ..." he says with a sigh.

"Tell me something specific, a place for Harm and me to start," I plead.

"Kev, who's this? Did you decide to pick up a woman who could buy you lunch while I was in the bathroom?" the blonde young woman teases as she reaches for his hand.

"It isn't like that. You've met my friend, Mattie. This is her mom, Mrs. Rabb. Mrs. Rabb, this is Heather," Kevin says, making introductions.

"Hello, Heather," I reply as I watch Kevin's arm slip around her waist.

"I'm his girlfriend," she bubbles.

"So I gathered," I comment somewhat absentmindedly, thinking about how this has to be at least one of the things that's bothering Mattie.

"Mattie...Mattie...is she the one whose boyfriend killed himself?" Heather asks, and the look that I give Kevin tells him that he isn't leaving the mall today without speaking to me first.

"Heather, Mrs. Rabb and I were just talking about a possible new project that she might want me to work on, so could you give me a few minutes to talk business before I buy you lunch?"

"Can't I stay here and listen? I like hearing about your movies," Heather says with a pout.

"The start-up stuff is boring, so please give me just a few minutes to discuss it with her."

"Please," I add, trying not to sound as desperate as I feel to find out what he knows.

"Okay," Heather says, "I'll be over there looking in that jewelry store window when you're done."

"Thank you," Kevin tells her before giving her a peck on the cheek and removing his arm from around her waist.

The moment that Heather steps far enough away that our conversation can't be heard, I turn to look at Kevin and state somewhat in shock, "We didn't even know that Mattie had a new boyfriend."

"He wasn't new. I'm not even sure that they were still dating," Kevin begins.

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**AFTER DINNER**

When I got home from shopping, I wasted no time in pulling Harm away from the others to speak with him privately about the vast amount of information that I'd been able to obtain from Kevin at the mall.

Once I'd relayed some of the things that Kevin had told me, our discussion quickly became what to do with our new knowledge - speak with Mattie or clue in the family and let her come to us when she was ready to talk about it.

With enough going on in her life that only _hearing_ about it made my head swim, I understand why it's probably too much for her to process alone.

With the thought that any hope for catching her before she fell too far would be highly unlikely if we left her to get through her troubles on her own, we quickly agreed that it was time to take the talk to Mattie. However, it took us until dinner time for me to convince Harm that _we_ shouldn't talk to her, but that it was time for Mattie and me to have a woman-to-woman talk.

Though he'd left the timing of our conversation up to me, when Mattie didn't come out of her room for dinner again tonight, after I'd done my part to clear the dinner dishes from the table, I turned the baby monitor over to Harm, saying, "I'm going in now."

He simply nodded in understanding as he took the monitoring device.

**MATTIE'S ROOM**

I rap on the door but don't wait for an answer before I enter her room.

She's lying flat on her back, but the sound of the door opening causes her to look in my direction.

"I have something that I want to talk to you about, Mattie."

"Don't you mean that you're ready to give me your lecture on the hazzards of drinking?" she asks with bitterness.

"No. I saw Kevin today while we were out shopping and -"

"Was he with Hea-ther?" she asks with a sneer, cutting me off.

"Yes. How long have the two of them been dating?" I ask curiously, ignoring her less than proper social manners for the moment.

"Too long if you ask me. She's a complete ditz ... all wrong for him." She pauses. "I'll bet when you saw her that she was wearing that hideous pink-tinted lip gloss, too. She wears it everywhere."

Her tone as she snaps out her response tells me that this is definitely one of the things that's eating at her.

"Now that you mention it, she was, and that must be why I was so upset when I saw him with her. She's a younger version of Renee Petersen."

"Who's she?" Mattie asks.

"A woman who was totally wrong for Harm but who he dated for more than a year."

"I don't know what he sees in her," Mattie says with a sigh, obviously about Heather and not Renee, as she turns her head to stare up at the ceiling.

"The way that they were looking at each other, I think that she's really into him, but I think that he likes the attention more than he's actually taken with _her_."

"Boys are so stupid," she comments.

"I don't think that they're stupid, but I do think that they can be easily distracted by shiny objects, even if the shine is created by lip gloss," I say teasingly.

Mattie starts to chuckle.

It's the first time that she's been anything other than sullen since she arrived home for the this holiday break, and I think that I might have the opportunity to get her to open up a little tonight if I don't push and continue to display my shock at seeing Kevin with another girl.

"Is it as hard for you to be glad for Kevin if he's happy with her as it was for me to feel good about Harm being with Renee?" She looks at me, and her face says that the question puzzled her. "Even though Harm and I weren't a couple and had never been one, I still felt as if I'd lost him to her...that he didn't have time to be my friend because he was with her, and feeling as if I'd lost my best friend, the one person who I could talk to about anything, made me feel sad, angry... What I'm saying doesn't even make sense. Sorry for rambling."

"No, it's okay. What you said makes sense to me because that's exactly how I feel ... that he isn't really my friend any more because I can't talk to him without putting myself in the middle of their relationship, and that if he's happy, then I'm not being a good friend to him by taking his focus off of her even if it's only to talk to him about school."

I sit down on the edge of her bed, even though I wasn't invited to join her.

"Harm was ... is my best friend, and even though I knew that there were other people who I could talk to ... that I had other friends, I still felt alone."

"I totally get how you felt," she says, her voice heavy with sadness.

There's a risk in what I'm about to say, but I'm hoping that it'll help me draw information from her.

"The last boy who you told us about, Kyle? When you got back to school after Thanksgiving, did the two of you patch things up or did you meet someone new?" I ask.

Mattie looks at me, and I notice that there are tears in her eyes.

"I wanted to talk to him, but I was too late. He was dead. They say that he left a note..." Her voice trails off and she begins to sob.

"I'm sorry, Mattie," I say, reaching for her hand to offer a comforting touch.

At the touch of my hand, she sits up, giving me the feeling that it was the wrong thing to do, so I retract my hand.

"Why did he kill himself?" Mattie asks as she collapses into my arms, her head coming to rest on my shoulder.

I put my arms around her, and she begins to sob uncontrollably.

I hold her and let her cry.

When she begins to calm, I keep her in an embrace and begin to rub her back, much like I'd do for one of the younger children if they were upset.

"I don't know why Kyle felt that he had to take his own life, but he did, and you have to understand that it was _his_ choice."

She lifts her head and looks into my eyes.

"Then why do I feel so guilty?" she asks.

It's a question that has so many possible answers that it's mind-boggling.

"Because you cared about him ... because you have a good heart and compassion for others ... because you lost your parents in ways that weren't within your ability to stop so you want to think that you could've saved someone from dying if they had a choice." I pause to let my response sink in before I ask, "Why didn't you tell us about Kyle sooner?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe it's because I knew that you and Harm didn't like him."

"I hope that isn't the reason because you should know that we may not like the way a person treats you or behaves, but that doesn't mean that we wouldn't understand the pain that losing that person might cause you. We're your family and, if you hurt, we hurt."

"Then are you having neck and back pain, too?" she questions sarcastically.

Though I still believe that there's a lot to discuss about Kevin, his new girlfriend, Kyle and his suicide, because of her accident, my concern about the pain that she's experiencing in her neck and back take priority now.

"Where exactly are you feeling pain?" I ask, changing the focus of our conversation from her emotional to her physical pain.

**DEN**

**AN HOUR LATER**

**HARM'S POV**

Upon returning from her shopping trip, Mac told me that she needed my help in the den to unpack her purchases, which I instantly knew wasn't the real story because she had only two small bags in her hands, and they'd brought in only half a dozen or so in total, which was hardly too much for she and my mother to unpack.

When I'd mentioned that fact, she'd simply looked at me and growled, "I wouldn't need your help if you didn't keep the flashlight on such a high shelf."

"I do that because Sami's gotten hold of it and run the battery down playing with it," I'd said, defending myself as I'd followed her to the den as ordered.

From her dark tone and her lack of comment at me trying to be funny, I knew that she had something important that she needed to discuss with me, but I hadn't been ready for the seriousness of the conversation.

I was floored by what Mattie's been carrying around with her these last few weeks without one word to any of us.

I'm so glad that Mac had that accidental meeting with Kevin so that we'd have some idea of what's wrong.

Armed with the information that I believe is at the heart of Mattie's need to drink, I was ready to march into her room and, according to Mac, 'tell her what her problem is and have her enrolled in rehab within the hour.'

It was an exaggeration of what I intended to do, but not so far off the mark that I could rebut her comment too strongly without lying.

Mac and I are definitely not sailing smoothly through this situation. She and I are at opposite poles, and the tension in the room when we were discussing it was measurable.

I want to be more direct and deal with the problem head on, and she believes that a less confrontational, more supportive take on the issue is best.

I argued that my firm stand with her when she'd become drunk again after years of sobriety is what she said had worked to get her back on the wagon, so a hard line with Mattie would work, too.

Mac's take is that there's no comparison with the two situations since their circumstances aren't the same. For instance, Mac said that, at the time when I'd taken the hard line with her, she was a mature woman with a career in the military who'd had a relapse, and not a young woman still trying to find herself. Mac also cited that she knew that she was an alcoholic, and the threat of me not continuing to be her friend if she drank had a big impact on her and worked for her situation. However, Mattie hasn't admitted to doing more than having a few drinks, and though it would be easy to jump to the conclusion that she is an alcoholic and needs help, that may not be the case, and coming on too strongly too soon could have the opposite effect, and she'd drink more and more frequently.

The situation is complex and, being aware from her conversation with Kevin that there's a lot going on in Mattie's world, Mac was firm in her belief that the best way to proceed at this time was for her to have a woman-to-woman talk with her to see if she could get her to open up about some of the things that had begun to take their toll on her emotional health.

Her passionate argument and my lack of knowledge in the area of alcoholism or with being a young woman trying to find her way in the world made me unsure if my way was correct, so I agreed - with reservations - to go with Mac's plan to speak with Mattie as long as it was today, though I left the exact time up to Mac.

Since Mac left to go talk with Mattie, I've been waiting not so patiently in the den so that she can fill me in on any information that she's been able to gather during their talk, and I don't know exactly what I expected, but the look that she has on her face when she enters the den isn't one that I'm happy to see and doesn't put me at ease.

"Well?" I question impatiently, my heart racing as I anxiously await an answer to the unasked questions of 'what did you find out' and 'is it as bad as we thought?'

"I didn't get as far into the discussion as I'd hoped because something came up that I wasn't expecting, and I believe that it should be addressed first," she replies.

It seems to me that Mac is hindering the process of us determining if Mattie should be hauled off in chains, if necessary, to rehab.

I'm angry at her, and it's apparent to her as I say, "You keep reminding me that you have the experience in this area, but I don't see that you're helping to solve the problem when you keep giving her, us really, excuses not to address the issue of her drinking," I spout with a clenched jaw.

"So, tell me, Doctor. What's so important that needs to be addressed before we find out the reason why she downed half a bottle of bourbon before she got caught?" I ask, so angry that I'm unable to conceal it.

"I _am_ addressing her drinking, but in a logical manner..." Mac states calmly. "...which means that, when I found out that she's experiencing physical pain, I think that she should see a doctor before I call her an alcoholic and alienate her when, though it isn't right, she may be drinking only to dull the pain in her neck and back."

This news takes the wind out of my sails.

"Neck and back..." I say, my anger replaced with concern.

"I'm not saying that she doesn't have a problem with alcohol, but if she's medicating herself with it to dull the pain, no treatment plan is going to work until the reason for her pain is resolved," Mac says with worry in her voice.

"I wonder why she hasn't said anything about hurting before now?" I question, but it wasn't one that I was specifically directing to Mac. It was just a question that I voiced aloud.

"I asked her the same question, and her answer was that she knew that we'd want to take her to the doctor, and she's afraid that he'll tell her that she's going to be paralyzed again and she doesn't want to hear it," Mac replies before adding what she told Mattie. "I told her that I could understand her being afraid of that, but I reminded her that, though the doctor said that she'd be more likely to experience neck and back problems in her life because of the injuries that she'd suffered in the accident, he never said that she'd be back in a wheelchair again."

"Today is New Year's Day, so I'm thinking that the odds of getting her an appointment tomorrow, even if we call early, are pretty slim. We might have a shot at Monday, but I'm thinking that Tuesday is more realistic, and it's even more likely that it'll be later in the week before we can get her an appointment," I point out.

"I hope that we don't have to wait that long to find out if there's a problem, but you're probably right about when we'll be able to get her in to see the doctor," Mac says, agreeing with my assessment.

"So we add calling to get her an appointment to our pre-flight check list, but there's no reason why we should change our weekend plans, right?" I inquire curiously to see how she feels about going away with me given how much we've been clashing over how to handle the situation with Mattie.

"I have a feeling that the blizzard headed our way is going to decide our weekend plans for us, and though missing the chance to get away before your parents leave next weekend is disappointing, I believe that the storm could be fate's way of keeping us right where we belong.

I can see the logic behind what she's saying, but I believe that we _need_ this trip, not only because I want time alone with my wife, but time together will serve to strengthen ourselves and our marriage against what may be a long battle to get Mattie healthy, regardless if her problem is caused by something physical or emotional or both.

"You're probably right, but I was really looking forward to our trip," I say with a sigh.

"I know," she says before pulling me into a comforting embrace. "I was too," she whispers in my ear as we hold each other for a few moments before returning to the living room to join the rest of the family, everyone except Mattie, that is, who's still in her room.


	35. Chapter 35

**PART TWO**

**FRIDAY, JANUARY 2, 2009**

**MATTIE'S ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1000**

**HARM'S POV**

I know that Mac thinks that my way is too direct. I believe that her exact word was 'confrontational', but I'm a fighter pilot - it's a way of life that's ingrained in me that didn't go away when I stopped flying. I'm a man of action, and not facing down the 'enemy' is going against that training. However, now that we've found out that Mattie is suffering from pain in her neck and back, I think that Mac is right about not jumping to the conclusion that Mattie's an alcoholic.

I'm still conflicted about the best way to handle Mattie's situation because, though she may be using alcohol as a pain killer, even Mac admits that it doesn't mean that Mattie doesn't have a problem with alcohol.

I can't even enter Mattie's room without having conflicted feelings.

Part of me wants to barge in to see if I can catch her with something containing alcohol, and the other part wants to take the softer approach like Mac suggested, since it was her way that got Mattie to share her feelings about Kevin's new girlfriend, her guilt concerning Kyle's death and the physical pain that she's been experiencing.

Sighing, I knock on Mattie's door.

It isn't that the latter part won; it's that she's a young woman. Entering without knocking might be acceptable for the women in the house, but as her dad, it would be awkward, to say the least if, I were to open the door while she was dressing.

"Mac?" Mattie's voice calls from the other side of the door.

"No, it's Harm," I respond.

"It isn't locked. Come in," she says.

I turn the doorknob and enter the room.

"I know that Mac came in earlier to see if you wanted breakfast, but I wanted to let you know that I got through on the appointment line, and we can't get you in today, but you've got an appointment on Monday at 1300."

"That isn't a good day for me because I don't want to go alone."

"You won't be going alone. Mac and I are going to take you."

"You can't! I mean...I want you to go with me, but I don't want you to have to cut your trip short to do it."

I chuckle.

"What?" she asks, puzzled.

"You've been in your room too long and lost touch with what's going on in the outside world. Though finding out why you're neck and back are hurting would be a good reason for us to come home early, there's no reason for you to worry about spoiling our trip. Arriving a few hours later than forecasters were predicting, the blizzard has arrived and is currently dumping large amounts of snow on us, which has resulted in our flight, among many others, to be canceled. So mother nature has decided that this is where we belong this weekend."

"Sorry," she says apologetically, as if she had some control over the weather.

"No reason for you to be sorry. I won't be working on my tan this weekend, but I can adapt. For instance, instead of packing the car and getting ready to go to the airport, I'm going to get in on a hot game of Go Fish with some short people. If you're interested, I could arrange for you to get a seat in the big game. I'll bet that they'd even let you hang out with them while they eat. Then, after lunch, you can come back and lie down to rest if you need to," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"You sure you want to vouch for me to get into the game? They can be a tough bunch," she says in jest, suggesting that she's in good spirits.

"True, but if you feel up to it, I'm willing to risk it because they can also be a really sweet, loving and helpful group, too."

She smiles at me. She knows that it's my way of telling her that she can talk to us.

"I'll give you one last chance to change your mind because, in case you've forgotten, I'm the champion Go Fish player around here," she says with a grin.

"I'm willing to risk defeat, but I must warn you that I'm feeling lucky today," I joke back.

"Then go tell them to deal me in, and I'll be there after I freshen up a bit."

"Will do...see you in the living room," I say, surprised but happy that she's going to come out of her room to spend time with the whole family for the first time in days.

**KITCHEN**

**AFTER LUNCH**

**MAC'S POV**

Harm followed Sami into the kitchen carrying his and Matthew's lunch dishes, and once they'd been deposited in the dishwasher, he scooped her up to be sure that she didn't scurry off in a 'catch me if you can' game to avoid or delay nap time. It's a strategy that she employs only when her grandparents are here. I think she does it because, with so many people in the house, she's afraid that she's going to miss something.

With Sami up in his arms, Harm tickles her side, causing her to giggle.

"I"ll get this one and the boy down for their naps," Harm says as he exits the kitchen.

I smile as Sami's laughter fills the air. Harm must be continuing to tickle her as he carries her off to her room.

Frank enters with Tyler and Abigail on his heels.

"We've decided to watch a movie while the little ones take a nap," he announces.

"Mattie says that she's going to watch it with us," Tyler says excitedly as he puts not one but two plates into the dishwasher. The mysterious extra plate must be Mattie's, I presume.

"That's great news!" I say, glad for him to have his big sister spending some time with him, and even happier that Mattie's been out of her room for longer than it takes to grab a soda today.

Frank extends an invitation. "The movie starts in five if any of you ladies want to join us," he adds as he and his movie-watching group leave the kitchen.

"You two feel free to go watch the movie. I'll run the dishwasher and then I think I'll opt for a nap as my afternoon activity," Harm's grandmother offers.

"No movie for us. I want to finalize our plans for Operation Staycation," Trish says cheerfully.

I can't believe that she gave my plan a name as if it were some kind of military operation that's to be carried out this weekend.

I'd been worried about imposing on Trish with my idea, but, as it turned out, she was nearly as disappointed - maybe equally so - as Harm to the cancellation of our trip because it meant that she wasn't going to get her grandchildren for the entire weekend to dote on before she and Frank left for California, so she was delighted with my idea that gave her the opportunity to get some of that 'spoiling' time back.

"Operation Staycation?" Harm's grandmother inquires.

I don't know if I find the additional time needed to explain what's going on to Harm's grandmother annoying because I didn't think that everyone in the house needed to know or because I don't understand why Trish needs clarification when her part isn't complicated. She needs to take the baby monitor to bed with her for the next three nights, and she and Frank are to keep the kids from our bedroom in the mornings in case Harm and I want or_ need _to sleep in past the time for breakfast.

"It's a surprise for Harm, so let's talk quickly while he's putting Matthew and Sami down for their naps. I don't want him wandering in here while we're talking about it."

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2115**

**HARM'S POV**

My shirt already removed, I'm shrugging out of my jeans when Mac enters our bedroom after she's done a final check of our children to be sure that everyone is asleep.

It's a scene that's no different from many other nights, so it shouldn't cause me to have a reaction except that we were supposed to be on an island enjoying a tropical paradise and each other tonight. So, instead of comforting familiarity, I find the norm to be disappointing and somewhat depressing compared to the evening that I'd conjured up in my dreams.

When I've finished my nightly routine, which is more like a ceremonial ritual of getting myself out of my clothes and into a pair of pajama pants, I perform the final step of slipping into bed to wait for Mac to join me.

However, Mac doesn't start to undress but crawls into bed still dressed until she's got her hip planted next to my hip with her hand on my bare chest and is looking into my eyes.

"Harm..." She almost purrs my name, yet there's no sign of interest in making love either in her attire or her expression, making me unsure of why she's sitting so close with such a serious expression on her face. "...I, like most people as the New Year approached, have been thinking about the past year. How it was good, how it was bad, goals I'd like to accomplish in the next year...those sorts of things, and there are a few things that I'd like to share with you tonight ... if you aren't too tired to listen, that is."

Given some of the things that have happened to us in the last year such as my diplomatic tour, the consequences of that and the premature arrival of our youngest child, I don't know if this will be pleasant to hear or if I might want to tell her that I'm too tired in order to avoid hearing a negative assessment of our life or marriage. However, not one to wait to deal with issues, I don't take the cowardly way out.

"I'm not sleepy, so share your resolutions with me."

"They aren't resolutions ... just things that I want you to know."

"Such as," I coach, hoping to get her to start talking and stop dancing around whatever's on her mind.

"For instance..." She lifts her hand, and her fingertips begin to trace over the fresh scar on my shoulder. "...I could've lost you, and I wanted to take time to face that and to tell you I'm so glad that I didn't..." She's getting choked up by the emotions that she's feeling. "...and I want you to know that, though part of it has to do with not wanting my children to lose their father, the biggest reason why I'm glad that you're here with me now is because I love you so very, very much."

I cover her hand with mine and tuck my fingers under her palm, but before I speak, I look into her eyes that are now glistening with tears.

"I'm glad that it wasn't my time yet either, not only because being dead doesn't sound like fun, but because I want to be around to see my children grow up and because we haven't been married long enough for me to be sure that you know that I love you with all my heart."

She leans forward, putting some of her weight on me, and places her lips on mine for a brief, tender kiss before pulling back.

"I have one more thing that I'd like to say, but it's more of a clear-the-air kind of thing," she says, wiping a fallen tear from her cheek.

"I want to apologize for getting so upset over the news that you were representing Catherine."

"Thank you, but an apology isn't necessary. I now understand why it made you so upset. I just wish that you'd asked me before we got married so that you wouldn't have been carrying that doubt around with you all this time," I state sincerely before adding reassuringly, "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

"It wasn't that I was fearful that she'd take you from me and it wasn't that I felt insecure all the time, but before we had Matthew and Patty, when the subject of my chances of having a baby came up or when fertility treatments didn't result in a pregnancy, I'd think about you already being a father. Then I got pregnant, not once but twice, and I discovered that it wasn't even about you already being a father that made me feel uneasy, insecure and jealous of Catherine. It wasn't even that she shared the bond of creating a child with you first. It was that she had that connection with you, period. Being the mother of your children, in my mind, was the one thing that made me different from any other woman with whom you'd ever been involved, but if you'd had a child with another woman, then there was nothing special about me."

"That simply isn't true. You're very special to me. That's why I married you."

"...But you married her, too...sort of," she says, wrinkling her nose.

"I guess I see your point more clearly now. Though, I don't think that it should count since it was a complete sham. Marrying her was a charade that was for love all right, but because I was in love with _you_ and I knew that she could help me get to you, not because I had any feelings for her."

"I know that, but sometimes, when things are looking less than rosy, that's the way my brain looks at things."

I put my arm around her and pull her to me.

"You should actually thank Catherine since she's part of the reason why we're together now."

Mac lifts her head off my chest so that she can look me in the eye when she asks, "How do you figure that?"

I think she did that so that she could judge my honesty and sincerity while she listened to my answer.

"I dated Catherine while I was in training with the CIA and, during that time, she never mentioned that she might be or that she was pregnant. After training, I was away a lot. Once I was fired, we hadn't seen each other in several months when she showed up at my door. It was that same day that you came by and saw that she appeared to be pregnant. Even though she assured me that I wasn't the father, I started to pursue her. One night over dinner, I suggested that she and I raise the baby together. She turned me down flat. Then she told me that she believed that my offer stemmed only from my belief that the child was mine and she could see that I needed proof that she was being truthful with me. To accomplish that, she told me that, once the child was born, she'd consent to a DNA test to prove that she wasn't keeping my child from me."

"I guess that I should thank her then. If she hadn't turned you down or insisted on the DNA test..." Her voice trails off and, after a few brief moments, she asks, "How did you feel when you found out that you weren't the father?"

"My first reaction was disappointment." I see her face fall and I feel that I need to explain. "You have to understand that I really thought that you'd moved on with Webb and that there was _never_, as you'd said, ever going to be an us."

A look of understanding comes over her face.

"You said that was your first reaction. What did you feel after that?" she asks.

"Relief...I wasn't in love with her and, call me old-fashioned, but I believe that the baby in the carriage comes third, after love and marriage. Once my head was clear of the idea that she'd been my one shot at having a child, I was relieved that I wasn't the father. I also took it as a sign."

She looks at me with a puzzled expression on her face, but I wasn't going to stop speaking just yet. It'll be clear to her in a moment.

"I'd always felt that you and I were meant to be, even though you'd made a comment to the contrary. However, by the time the results came in, I was back at JAG, and even though things were strained between us, we still made sparks, so when the test came back confirming that I wasn't a father, I saw it as a sign that it hadn't been my one shot and it renewed my hope that you and I would fulfill our deal of going halves on a baby."

"I feel much better now. I'm glad that we talked, aren't you?"

"I am, and if we're clearing the air so that we can start fresh at the beginning of a new year, I have two things that I want to tell you," I counter.

"Okay," she says, and the way that she pushes herself into a sitting position, she's bracing for bad news.

"Though it isn't the way that I wanted to do it, your way certainly seems to have worked with Mattie because, since you spoke with her yesterday, she was out of her room from mid-morning until after dinner today. So I want to thank you for what you've done to help her."

"No reason to thank me. She's _our_ daughter, so guiding her through life isn't your sole responsibility...but I appreciate the acknowledgment that you think that I helped the situation, especially given that I know that you wanted to handle it differently. So, you're welcome," she replies with a grin.

I smile warmly at her.

"What's the second item?" Mac asks, looking at me adoringly.

"I want to tell you that I owe you a steak dinner or a new pair of shoes - or both."

"For what?" she inquires quizzically.

"As a replacement gift for our trip to the Bahamas."

"Not going on the trip has to do with the weather, and since you had no control over that, I don't see why you think that you should give me a different gift." Her fingers start to 'walk' playfully up my chest as she continues, "Besides, who said that I wasn't going to get my weekend alone with you?"

I raise an eyebrow, silently questioning her meaning.

"We were supposed to be away this weekend, so your mother has the baby monitor with her, and you and I have nothing to do and no place to be."

"I wish that you'd have clued me in on this at-home vacation because I promised the kids that I'd help them make a snowman tomorrow."

"On vacation, you can have activities, and tomorrow's will be playing in the snow with the kids, but tonight there's just you and me." She moves to get out of bed. "I'm going to get into something a little more comfortable and then I'm going to go to the kitchen to get us a little snack so that we can talk about what we want to do on the rest of our 'staycation'."

"You could _stay_ in bed, and I'll help you get more comfortable," I say, using the husky voice that I know gets to her.

"No need to rush, Sailor. We've got two whole days," she says, putting her feet on the floor.

**TWENTY-TWO MINUTES LATER**

**MAC'S POV**

Carrying a small tray, I stop at our bedroom door to do be sure that I've done everything that I needed to do in order for us to sleep in tomorrow.

I've looked in on the children, and all are sleeping, check. Trish has the baby monitor, check. I pumped my breast milk before I went to our room the first time, check. I changed in the bathroom so that Harm wouldn't get a peek and, under a robe that he's seen many nights before, I have on the little red number that I bought yesterday, check.

"I think that's everything," I mumble to myself as I shift the tray to open the door.

Harm eyes the tray as I approach the bed.

"Strawberries ... and ... what's in the bowl?"

I've reached the side of the bed and offer the tray to Harm.

"Whipped cream..." he says, answering his own question when he takes the tray from me. "...and the strawberries are drizzled with chocolate," he adds, not taking his eyes off our snack.

By the time he does look at me, I've had time to rid myself of my robe.

"Wow!"

"Thought I had some old thing on under my robe, didn't you?"

He nods affirmatively, apparently too busy taking in the view to speak.

Finally finding his voice he asks, "That's new ... part of the storm supplies that you had to go out for?"

With my knees on the bed, I move towards him.

"Yes. You like it?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah!" he answers with the lift of an eyebrow and a flirty smile.

"Are you going to share them with me?" I ask, taking a momentary glance at the fruit before returning my focus to his darkening eyes that are now smouldering with desire.

"You can have them all if I can have you," he states in his husky, bedroom voice, still not having taken his eyes off of me.

I reach for a strawberry and, after dragging the tip of it through the bowl of whipped cream, I say in my most seductive voice, "I'm willing to share" as I bring the fruit to my lips.

Pushing the strawberry into my mouth, I don't bite but rather suck off the whipped cream as I pull it back out of my mouth.

He breaks eye contact with me, but only momentarily until he's armed with a strawberry drizzled in chocolate with a clump of whipped cream clinging to it.

With a look in his eyes as if to say that two can play that game, he extends his tongue from between his lips until he's able to swirl it around the end of the fruit, giving me a visual display of the way that he uses his tongue to tease my nipples.

Did the temperature in the room suddenly double?

I'd bought the large strawberries for this purpose, but I didn't know that he'd join in the teasing and start amping up my level of need as well.

Thank god I bought only four of them. Otherwise, this could have been drug out too long.

I finish eating the first strawberry and drop the stem onto the tray before taking one of the last two.

After I've dipped the berry into the whipped cream, I put it to his lips, and he mimics me once again, offering me one as he takes a bite of the one in my hand.

Our eyes are locked on each other's faces as we finish the last two berries.

I lean forward and glide my tongue along a portion of his lower lip to the corner of his mouth and then pull away. "I got the whipped cream off for you."

"I think you made that up, but thank you," he says before I feel the coolness of the chilled whipped cream being applied to my neck before he leans forward and adds, "Let me get that for you."

He begins to kiss and lick at the smear of whipped cream until it's gone.

"You know that's going to stay sticky until I take a shower," I say with an 'I don't mind' kind of tone.

"Then let me help you get undressed so we can take a shower."

"You're so helpful this evening," I comment playfully.

He turns to place the tray on the night table.

"Don't go too far with that whipped cream because I'm not the only one who's going to have sticky spots before we get into the shower," I add suggestively.

"I'm all yours. Do with me what you will," he states playfully.

It's the start of a sometimes playful, sometimes erotic and very satisfying lovemaking session.


	36. Chapter 36

**PART THREE **

**SATURDAY, JANUARY 3, 2009**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0409**

**HARM'S POV**

Since we have an infant, a toddler and other children who could call upon us at a moment's notice during the night for anything from wanting to be fed to wanting comfort after a bad dream, it's seldom that either of us goes to bed nude, let alone both of us, making the rarity of waking up with the warmth of her body snuggled against my side, skin-to-skin and tangled in the sheets with her even more pleasant and enjoyable, and it brings a smile to my face even before I open my eyes.

I turn my head and crack open an eye to look at the clock.

0409

I've slept only a few hours, yet they were so restful that I feel better than I have in weeks.

However, there's no reason to get out of bed so early, especially when it would mean that I'd be leaving Mac alone in bed.

'She did say that we could sleep in,' I think before rolling until I'm on my side with her facing me.

I brush strands of her hair back to reveal her neck.

Moving to place my lips on her skin, my nose picks up the hint of lavender, the scent of the shower gel that she used when we showered together - before we made love for the second time last night.

'I may be getting older, but I can still rise for a second round,' I think, scoffing at the self doubt that I'd had as I place a moist kiss just below her ear.

Deciding that I should let her sleep after the long night that we had, I put a halt to my plan to wake her with my kisses.

After a second kiss it to her forehead instead of her neck, I roll to my back.

She snuggles into my side, draping her arm over my abdomen.

Her voice heavy with sleep, she asks, "What was that for?"

"Just admiring how beautiful you are and thanking my lucky stars that I have you."

"I'm pretty lucky, too," she responds through a yawn.

Now that she's awake, there's no reason why I shouldn't test the waters of her interest in starting the day the way that we ended the last one.

"I wasn't dreaming, was I? You did say that we can sleep in, didn't you?"

She moves her head to look up at me.

"You weren't dreaming, though I don't know if it matters since you don't sound sleepy," she states, obviously more awake now.

"I could probably go back to sleep, but I woke up with an urge to -"

"- eat strawberries?" she says with an enticing smile, cutting me off.

"Yes ... they were good," I say with a grin and a wink so that she knows that I'm not talking about the fruit 'appetizer' that we shared last night.

She breaks eye contact with me and begins to draw circles with the pads of her fingers on my bare chest.

"I don't suppose that you'd want to do it again, would you?" she asks seductively.

I take her hand and roll until I have her flat on her back and I'm half covering her body with mine.

"I thought you'd never ask," I answer with a full Rabb smile before my lips claim hers for a passionate kiss.

**OUTSIDE OUR FRONT DOOR**

**1000**

**MAC'S POV**

As it happened, according to Frank, a teenaged boy who lives in the neighborhood had knocked on our door to ask if we'd like for him to shovel the snow off our sidewalk and drive, and Frank, telling us that he could hardly say no to a boy with such an entrepreneurial spirit ... and a snow blower, hired him to do just that. So the work of clearing the heavy snowfall was done by the time Harm and I woke again and came out of our room for coffee and a snack that would get us through until it was time for lunch.

Covered in a thick blanket of fresh powdery white, our yard is a stark contrast to our freshly cleared sidewalk and looks more like a modern, suburban version of a Currier & Ives winter wonderland picture.

"Momma, you're going to help us make our snowman, aren't you?"

Ty's voice causes me to stop taking in the view and turn my attention to four sets of eyes, all looking at me with puzzled expressions.

"Maybe Momma wants to make snow angels before we make the snowman," Harm comments with a chuckle to Ty in response to his question.

"You make snow angels last just before it's time to go inside because it makes you all cold and sometimes you get wet," Ty counters in all seriousness.

"Good point," I say, moving towards Harm, Ty, Abigail and Sami.

"What's a snow angel?" Abigail asks softly.

It seems to me that Ty, Abigail and Sami have always been our children, so I often forget that the two girls were born in San Diego and that this winter has been their first exposure to snow. The previous snowfall was enough for a good snowball, but not deep enough for a good snow angel, so activities such as snow angels and snowmen are new to them.

"I'll show you after we've finished the snowman," I reply with a smile.

"I want to make a snowman as big as Daddy," Sami says, getting in on the conversation, too.

"I think that might be a little ambitious for your first one," I say to her, causing a pout to form instantly on her face.

"If we don't get started, there isn't going to be asnowman because it'll be time for lunch," Ty says, his voice laced with frustration.

"Then let's get started. Ty, you roll the large ball for the bottom so that your sisters can see how it's done. Abigail, you can make the next one, which should be a little smaller and, Sami, you can roll the small one that we'll use for his head," Harm says, organizing our children into a working team and getting them started on building their snowman.

"Did anyone bring out anything to make his face?" I ask, not sure if I missed seeing it because I was looking at the snow or if it was just something that was forgotten in the rush to get outside to play.

The blank look on Harm's and Ty's faces, the two people who think they know how to build a snowman, tells me that they didn't think of it.

"Then I'll go inside and find something. I'll be back in a few minutes," I volunteer.

**INSIDE THE HOUSE**

**1010**

When I enter the house, I'm surprised to find Mattie standing in the foyer, putting on her winter coat.

"We didn't think that you were going to join us, so you'd better hurry because they've already started to roll the first snowball," I comment absentmindedly as my thoughts are more focused on what we can use to make a face.

"I'm not coming out to help build it. After everyone headed outside, I realized that this is probably the first time that the girls have made a snowman and I thought that it should be documented, so I'm coming out to take pictures," she informs me.

"That's a wonderful idea," I gush, thrilled that Mattie seems to be getting back to being a member of the family.

"Wait, if they just started, why are you in here?"

"My assignment is to round up something to make his face," I reply.

"Need me to grab anything before I head out?" she asks, buttoning her coat.

"You could grab a carrot from the kitchen and take it out while I see if I have buttons or a decent substitute to use for his eyes."

"Okay, meet you outside," she responds, sounding cheerful.

It's a nice sound.

I nod in agreement and step away in search of some things to use for the rest of our snowman's face.

**HARM'S SUV**

**EN ROUTE TO BETHESDA**

**1148**

**HARM'S POV**

"How are you doing, Princess?" I ask, not for the first time during the car ride, hoping that I sound calm.

"I'm okay," Abigail answers.

It isn't that I'm unnerved by the fact that my little girl might have a broken arm. Sure, I was a little shaken when she got up crying after she fell and I realized that she was hurt, but a broken arm is no big deal for a kid, at least not for the average kid. However, Abigail isn't an average child. She has a real gift and, as we get closer to the hospital, I become more concerned that her injury could have a negative impact on her life.

"Does it still hurt?" I ask, trying to keep her engaged in conversation to help make the trip up here seem shorter and to keep her mind from traveling where mine has; that a severe injury to her arm could impact her ability to play the piano.

"A little, but not as much."

"It won't be that much longer. We're all most there," I say, taking the exit from the interstate that puts us closest to Bethesda.

**EMERGENCY ROOM**

**BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER**

**BETHESDA, MARYLAND**

**1233**

**MAC'S POV**

"I wonder what's taking so long."

It's something that I'd expect one of the children to say, but not Harm.

"We've been waiting for a long time," he adds impatiently.

He seems to be taking Abigail's fall very hard.

I hope that he isn't blaming himself. It was an accident.

We were having a snowball fight when Trish yelled out to us that lunch was ready, and she fell while running to the door. Even though the driveway had been cleared, it was still slick in spots, and she tried to break her fall with her arm. When it began to swell immediately, it led us to believe that it was broken, but the only way to be sure was to make a trip to the emergency room.

"Relax, Harm, we've been here for only thirty-four minutes," I say, patting his arm and hoping that he takes comfort from my touch.

"Well, it seems like it's been a lot longer," he says, looking at Abigail who's sitting in the chair between us, at least appearing less worried about seeing the doctor than her dad is at the moment.

"Maybe we should use this time to explain to Abigail what's going to happen when she sees the doctor and make sure that she doesn't have any questions," I offer, more to focus Harm than any concern that I have for the situation.

"Good idea," Harm agrees before turning his attention to Abigail.

I'd be more distressed if Abigail was showing signs of having been shaken by the experience, but that doesn't seem to be the case. She cried immediately after falling, but after a few reassuring words and a hug, she calmed and hasn't shown any signs that would indicate that she's in an excessive amount of pain, though I'm sure that she's uncomfortable.

While taking a long look at her, I notice that Abigail isn't showing any signs that she's in any distress about having to see the doctor, either.

I wish I could say the same for Harm.

For me, knowing that the worst case scenario is that her arm is broken and that she'll have to wear a cast for four to six weeks for it to heal before she's as good as new keeps me calm in this situation.

I'd tease Harm about the way that he's behaving, but I know that it would only open me up to the same treatment on Monday. I'm fine in situations like this, but I'll be a nervous wreck when we're waiting to find out about Mattie because there's no way for me to predict that outcome.

**SAME TIME**

**ABIGAIL'S POV**

"You've been to the doctor before, Princess, so you know that the nurse is going to take your temperature and do all the normal stuff, right?"

"Yes, Daddy," I answer, concerned because my dad seems really upset that I hurt my arm.

"Then you'll see the doctor. He'll want to examine ... you know, look at and touch your arm."

"Like you and Momma did at the house?" I ask.

"Yes, like that."

"I don't want him to do that because, when I touch it, it hurts."

"I know it hurts, but he's going to have to examine it. It shouldn't take him very long to do it, though. Then, if he thinks it's broken, he'll have them take an X-ray of it. Do you know what an X-ray is?"

"I'm not sure," I answer, starting to feel nervous about seeing the doctor because it's going to hurt.

"An X-ray is a special picture that they take using a machine that can see through your skin to look at your bones. So, if your arm is broken, they'll be able to see it on the X-ray," my daddy explains.

"Does getting an X-ray hurt?" I ask.

"They'll have to touch your arm in order to move it into position so the machine can take the picture, so that part may hurt some, but taking the actual picture doesn't hurt."

**MAC'S POV**

"Abigail Rabb," the nurse calls from the doorway.

Harm scoops up Abigail as he stands.

"It's her arm, not her leg," I state as he carries her towards the nurse, but he's already a long stride in front of me and doesn't hear me.

**EXAM CUBICLE**

**FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER**

**ABIGAIL'S POV**

"Abigail, I'm Doctor Whipple. Can you tell me how you hurt your arm?"

"I fell."

"What were you doing when you fell down?" Doctor Whipple asks.

"I was running." I answer and then add, "I'm not a good runner."

"Why were you in such a hurry that you were running?" the doctor questions while lifting her injured arm to begin his exam.

"I didn't want to be a rotten egg," I answer softly.

**MAC'S POV**

The doctor chuckles, and I feel the need to move the story along by telling him what happened that caused us to be here.

"Most of the family were out playing in the snow," I begin.

"We made a snowman and snow angels," Abigail says, chiming in with a bright smile. Obviously, she's going to remember this day as more than just the day that she broke her arm, if it's indeed broken.

"Yes, we did, and we were in the middle of a boys against the girls snowball fight when she took her spill."

Abigail then continues to explain, "Grandma called us in because lunch was ready, and Ty said the last one -"

"- in the house is a rotten egg," the doctor finishes for her. "I'll bet that Ty is your older brother."

"How did you know that?" Abigail asks in amazement.

"Because I have a younger sister, and it sounds like something that I would've said to her." He pats her knee and looks at Harm and me, who are standing next to the exam table. "It feels like it may be broken, so I'm going to order an X-ray." He then directs his attention back to Abigail. "While they're taking that X-ray, you need to be thinking about what color you want your cast to be."

"It sounds like you're pretty sure that it's broken," Harm says to the doctor, making it sound like a question.

"There's a possibility that it isn't, of course, but I'm reasonably sure that it is. However, there's no reason to be concerned since it looks to be a clean break. After a few weeks in a cast, she'll be as good as new."

"Is there any way to tell if there's permanent damage at this point, Doctor?" Harm asks with such seriousness that I find it to be an odd question.

"We'll set the arm and put it in a cast. There should be no deformity of the arm when it's healed, if that's what you mean," the doctor answers, a bit puzzled.

"That's good to know, but that isn't what I mean. She plays the piano, Doctor..."

Harm doesn't even have to finish before I understand why he's been having what I thought was an odd reaction to a simple childhood injury. He's been concerned about more than just the probability that she'd broken her arm. He's been worried that the injury will effect her life. He knows how much playing the piano means to her, and if this injury kept her from playing, she'd be devastated.

"At her age, kids heal remarkably well. Though, after I see the X-ray, I may recommend that she not use that hand for a few weeks, I'm sure that she'll be able to play as well as she did before the break," the doctor replies with a sympathic smile.

I can tell from the breath that Harm exhales that the confidence with which the doctor responded to Harm's concern has him feeling better.

"Any other questions or concerns that I can answer for you?" the doctor inquiries.

"Could I have a pink cast?" Abigail asks softly.

"You can, or I know that we've got purple, blue, green, red and white, too. You think it over because you need to be sure which one you want before it goes on that arm," Doctor Whipple replies to Abigail before turning to us. "I'll type in the order, and the nurse will be in shortly to take her to X-ray."

"Thank you, Doctor," Harm states, his relief at hearing that the doctor doesn't see any potential problems making him sound a little more like his usual self.

"Yes, thank you, Doctor," I echo.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**2100**

"We're on vacation, so why don't you take the time to relax and soak in a hot bath?" Harm asks somewhat distractedly.

I wrap my arms around him.

"It's supposed to be a second honeymoon, so why don't you join me?" I suggest because he definitely isn't relaxed at the moment.

"You go ahead and get started on your bath. I'll do tonight's final check on the children and be in to join you soon."

"Your parents are doing that tonight because, like you just reminded me, we're on vacation."

I can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to come up with another reason for him to have to leave the room.

"I'll tell you what. Why don't you go check on Abigail while I start that bath?"

He kisses the end of my nose.

"Thanks, Mac. I'll be right back."

If I didn't let him go, he'd have been preoccupied with how she was doing, and there would've been no hope for us to have another wonderful second honeymoon night.

At least this way, if nothing else happens, I'll get a relaxing hot bath out of the evening.

**SIX MINUTES LATER**

**HARM'S POV**

I open the bathroom door and enter the room.

"May I join you?" I ask, hoping that my desire to check on Abigail tonight hasn't put a damper on the honeymoon activities of our at-home vacation.

"Please do," she replies with a welcoming smile.

We exchange no words while I shed my clothing.

After I've slipped into the tub with her, Mac looks at me and asks, "Is Abigail all right?"

"Yes. She's sleeping peacefully. The only sign that anything is amiss is the pink cast on her arm," I answer, feeling a little foolish that I'd been so driven to check on her since the doctor had told us that it was a simple fracture and that she's going to be fine.

The water starts to ripple as Mac begins to reposition herself.

Instead of her settling in with her back against my chest, she sits at an angle so that one breast rests against my chest, her hip presses against my manhood and her long, slender legs stretch out to the other end of the tub.

"Are you all right?" she asks with concern.

"I'm doing better now," I reply, eyeing her, but knowing that she was referring to how I've been handling Abigail's injury.

"I'm glad to hear it. Though I think you're pretty sexy as a worried father, you were distracted from what I wanted to do this evening," she purrs before her lips claim mine.

I don't know what it is about this woman, but after twice last night and once this morning, I'm eager to make love to her again.

Caught up in the kiss, the desire to be with her growing stronger, my tongue seeks permission to enter, which she grants, and our tongues wrap around each other in a duel as if trying to win the fight of who wants the other more.

My hands roam down her back until they're submerged beneath the waterline.

Hands cupping her six, I apply gentle pressure until she's pressed firmly against my growing need to be with her.

Lack of air forces our lips to part and, breathlessly I say, "I don't want this."

Her eyes open wide as if I've said that I don't want _her_.

"I mean, not in the tub. We'd be in a hurry to finish before the water gets cold and we don't need to rush if we're still on vacation," I say more evenly after having a moment to catch my breath.

"You're right," she says, turning in my arms until her back is against my chest, her six settling between my legs. "You had me worried there for a minute, Sailor, but I can tell that I still have your interest."

"Oh, you have my undivided attention," I respond before nuzzling into her neck and placing the first of several kisses there.

My next move is to caress one of her breasts with one hand while slipping my other hand below the water until I have it between her legs where my fingers begin to explore her folds.

Minutes later, I push two fingers into her, and the arching of her back tells me that my advances are not unwanted, so I continue to rhythmically finger her until her throaty moans cease and her body relaxes against me.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**MINUTES LATER**

As far as I'm concerned, a bathtub isn't the most comfortable place for lovemaking, and the last thing I want is for her to feel that she isn't receiving a loving experience from this special time together. That isn't to say that I'm not in need of my own release. It just means that I want mine to be mutual with her next one. So when the water started to cool, I suggested that we get out of the tub.

I got out first and then, after she'd stepped out safely, I scooped her still wet body into my arms and carried her to our bed where I placed her down gently before taking a place beside her.

Now my lips are merged with hers in a passionate kiss.

Bringing the kiss to a natural close, I lower my head to give attention to her breasts that were denied kisses while we were in the tub.

**MAC'S POV **

Though he was able to satisfy me earlier, his cool lips making contact with my breast reignites the desire that began to burn as he kissed my neck, nibbled at my ear and caressed me in the tub.

He places a kiss on my right nipple and then his tongue swirls around it.

I feel the gentle pull of him suckling that breast and then he suddenly stops and begins to pull away.

He doesn't lift just his head but the majority of his torso as if he's about to get out of bed.

"I'm sorry. That probably hurt you. You didn't feed Patty tonight," he says, sounding more than a little apologetic.

"I didn't feed Patty, but I did pump my milk while the bath water was running." I lift my arm to reach for him.

Placing my hand on the back of his neck, I continue, "I'm fine." With a gentle tug, I bring his head towards me. "Now, I believe you were ..."

I let my words fall away because his smile tells me that he remembers exactly where he left off and, in just seconds, he's resumed showering my right breast with attention.

Not one to be a neglectful lover, he moves from my right to the left breast in his quest to bring me to the point of release.

He starts a trail of kisses from the valley between my breasts and down my abdomen until he reaches my swollen nib and, with the tip of his talented tongue, he tantalizes and teases me, pushing me closer to the edge.

His technique is working, and my inner walls begin to spasm.

My need to feel him inside of me is so strong that it makes me use his name as if to summon him.

"Harm..."

"Yes?" he replies in a low, husky voice.

I hate it when he plays coy with me. He knows damn well what I want.

Being close to release, I pant out, "Now..."

I'll bet if I could see his face, he's grinning - the egotistical fighter-jock one - from ear to ear in satisfaction that I want him so urgently after he successfully satisfied me in the tub.

'I'll get even with him before the end of our vacation,' I think as his body covers mine.

"Your wish is my command," he says in a voice dripping with desire.

'I may have been the first one to say it, but I'm not the only one who's ready.' That's my last complete thought as I feel him push into me.

It's instinctual now, and our bodies work in perfect harmony as we bring each other to the edge and then fall over it together.

Collapsing onto the bed, he pulls me to him and, sated, we fall asleep after an exhausting day.


	37. Chapter 37

**PART FOUR **

**MONDAY, JANUARY 5, 2009 **

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0913**

**HARM'S POV**

Outside our bedroom at this hour on a weekday morning, I know that there's movement and noise, but lying here naked and curled in a post coital cuddle, our room is silent and still.

Lounging in bed and savoring this last morning of our stay-at-home vacation, I've been in quiet reflection, not only of the intimate moments but of the family time that we spent together, especially the morning that we played in the snow, which ended when Abigail fell and broke her arm.

**MAC'S POV**

I know that he's lost in thought because he hasn't commented on the fact that my fingers are playing in the hairs on his chest, a habit that I get the feeling annoys him to some degree, but he doesn't mention it because he's learned that it's a sign that I have something on my mind that I'm ready to talk about, yet I'm unsure of how to start the dialogue.

This morning, I know that once I speak, not only will the calming silence be gone, but it will mark the end of our time to hide away.

Forcing my fingers to still, I place my palm against his chest and break the silence.

"I'd like to stay like this forever, but we need to get up soon. Mattie's appointment is in -"

Putting two fingers against my lips, he ends my sentence prematurely.

**HARM'S POV **

I've found that her ability to know the time can come in quite handy, but using her ability to formulate a countdown to an event such as a flight or a doctor's appointment can be a real negative to me, especially this morning when the calculation puts a time limit on how long we can remain in bed.

"Please, no time reminder yet. Give us five more minutes."

"Okay, five more minutes" she responds softly, snuggling closer to me.

"Thank you." The silence returns but only momentarily before I say, "I needed this." I'm not referring to just the extra five minutes to which she's agreed, but to the entire weekend.

"So I gathered a few days ago when you said that I shouldn't 'worry my pretty little head' about Catherine's case."

"I didn't say that, did I? That sounds so..."

"Sexest or 1950's?" she says before lifting her head to look me in the eye while she explains why she let me live after I made such a comment.

"At the time you said it, I gave you a pass because I felt that you were really stressed about Catherine's case and feeling the added pressure of me being upset with you for helping her. Then, when you told me about my island getaway Christmas gift, I realized that you might not be thinking straight, caused not only by the stress of that particular situation, but also by our hectic life. Not that you or I would want to change a thing about our life, but it's tough to have much couple-time when so much is going on around here all the time."

"True, and I guess that made the trip more for me than it was for you." I pause. "I guess that means that I do owe you a steak dinner or a new pair of shoes."

"Not that I'd ever turn down a good meal or a pair of comfortable shoes, but a new gift isn't necessary..." she replies teasingly before breaking eye contact with me.

**MAC'S POV**

I'm a little ashamed because I wasn't more aware of my own feelings and a little embarrassed because I feel so good - or maybe that should be bad about the fact that, once we've come into the bedroom each night, we've been all over each other like horny teenagers, only better because we know what we're doing - so I opt to fix my gaze on a spot on his chest as I continue, "...but the truth is that I needed this, too. I just hadn't given myself time to think about how much I was missing you before you mentioned going away together."

"But you're all better now," he says assuredly.

I look up to see that I've inflated his ego and it's forced a full flyboy smile to appear on his face.

You can take the fighter pilot out of the plane, but you can't take the fighter pilot out of the man, I think as I shake my head in disbelief.

"You know, I let you deny that you called me Sweet Thing once...and I gave you a pass on the 'pretty little head' bit a few days ago, but that's it. You're gonna pay for being so full of yourself," I respond before I land a firm blow with my pillow.

Pulling the pillow from behind his head, he lands a blow.

I retaliate, and so the pillow fight begins until, laughing, I collapse on top of him, and he drops his pillow and kisses me. Then the lovemaking begins again.

**LIVING ROOM**

**1507**

**HARM'S POV**

Mac and I didn't want to spoil the holidays for anyone, so we kept the information about Mattie's drinking and our suspicions to ourselves, for which I was glad after we became aware of her pain. Given her father's history, it would be very hard to un-ring that bell with the family once we'd rung it if it turns out that she was simply using alcohol as a painkiller.

However, Mattie's pain and discomfort is something that we did share with her grandparents and great-grandmother, and since we've returned from her appointment, the three of them are eager to hear what we found out about the source of her pain.

So as not to worry Sami, she's encouraged to go play in her room so that the adults can share information freely before Tyler and Abigail get home from school.

Whether it's impatience or nervousness that gets the best of her, my grandmother is the first to ask, "Well, what did the doctor say?"

Unsure of how much the other people in the room know about what's been going on since her arrival, Mattie looks at me as if she's pleading for me to answer.

"There's no conclusive answer," I say in response to my grandmother's question.

I think I hear Mattie sigh in relief, or maybe it's frustration over being poked and prodded without getting a definitive answer as to the cause of her pain.

"Tell me that they have at least some idea of what's wrong," my mother says emphatically.

"He threw out a few ideas but he believes that the mostly likely cause of her pain is a pinched nerve," Mac answers.

"That doesn't sound so bad," Frank begins optimistically, but then I think he realizes that it may sound as if he's minimizing her circumstances or level of pain and he adds, "I mean in terms of getting you fixed up and feeling good again."

"If it were only that easy," Mattie states, the fatigue in her voice obvious.

"Since her pain is in two seemingly unrelated but possibly related places, the doctor ordered a few tests that he said should rule out other possible causes and hopefully show exactly what's causing the pain," Mac offers as an explanation, but we can see from the looks on their faces that it didn't make the situation any clearer to them.

"Then he doesn't think that it's a pinched nerve?" my grandmother asks with confusion.

I take my turn at trying to explain what the doctor told us.

"No, he believes that it's a nerve -"

"Or two," Mattie interjects.

"Yes, or more than one, making him ask what's changed over the last few months to cause her symptoms."

"Does he have any guesses as to what the problem might be?" Frank asks.

"He was intentionally vague," I reply, not hiding my frustration at having to wait for answers.

"He said that there's no way that he can be sure and that's why he ordered the tests," Mac begins, taking over for me. "However, when pressed, he said that he believed that the most likely cause, given her previous injuries to her neck and back, is either a bone spur that presses against the nerve and causes pain when she turns, sits or lays in a particular way, or vertebra that are compressing and pinching nerves in her neck and back."

"Or both," Mattie adds.

"Did they perform the tests today?" my grandmother asks.

"If they did, how long until we know something?" my mother adds impatiently

Mom added her question so closely to the end of my grandmother's that there was no time to answer hers.

"They didn't do them today, but they did schedule them for next week, and if I understood correctly, it'll be several days after that until the report is ready for him to review, so he had us schedule another appointment two weeks from now to review the results with us."

"Isn't there anything that they can do for you in the meantime, dear?" my grandmother asks.

"I'm not supposed to sit or stand for prolonged periods of time, lift anything heavier than my backpack, and not overexert myself. If I feel tired, I'm to rest," Mattie replies, giving half the answer to my grandmother's question.

"He also gave her two prescriptions. One is a muscle relaxant to ease her discomfort during the day but leave her alert enough to keep up with her studies, and the other one is a sleeping pill so that she can get a full eight hours of sleep each night," Mac says, giving them the other half of the answer.

"Frank, I should call the gallery and tell them that I won't be back next Monday, and you call the airlines and cancel our reservations."

"Grandma, I appreciate the fact that you're concerned, but you can't do anything here but wait, and you can do that in San Diego while you run the gallery that you haven't even seen in like forever," Mattie says before hugging my mother.

"What if you need someone to stay with you in Blacksburg when school resumes?" my mother offers in argument.

"If needed, I'll go to Blacksburg and stay with Mattie," my grandmother offers.

My mother looks at me.

"Mom, we love having you here, and you've certainly been of great help to us during the last few months. If you want to stay, we certainly aren't going to make you leave, but you do have a business to run," I add.

"Trish, they're right. It's time for us to go," Frank begins, but the tears that we can all see forming in my mother's eyes causes him to stop.

"I know that you aren't leaving because you don't care about me," Mattie says in hopes of comforting her grandmother.

"You'll let us know what the doctor says, won't you?" my mother questions, a lone tear rolling down her cheek.

"Of course, the second we know something, we'll call," I reply before stepping up to give my mother a comforting hug.

"I know that you're right, but ..." She stops to sniffle.

I was expecting this kind of waterworks this weekend when they left for the airport, but not today.

"...I'm going to miss you all terribly," my mother finishes.

"We're going to miss you, too," Mac says as she lines up behind me to give my mother a hug.

After hugs are exchanged all around, my mother declares, "I need to go make snacks for the children."

We let her leave the living room knowing that, though she'll make the children their mid-afternoon snacks, she also wants a few minutes to collect herself before Tyler and Abigail come home from school.

**2130**

**HARM'S POV**

Our vacation is over, and I'm lying in bed lost in thought, waiting for Mac to join me after making her final check on the children.

"You're thinking about Mattie's appointment, aren't you?" she asks without pausing long enough to let me respond. "I know that we were hoping to have definite answers today, but they said that the tests that they want to run would be beneficial in not only helping them determine the cause of her pain, but in deciding on the best form of treatment."

"I wasn't really thinking about any one thing in particular, more about this past weekend, our little at-home vacation as a whole."

"Oh," Mac says as she puts the baby monitor on her bedside table. "Do you need for me to leave so you have more time to think, or can I lie down now?"

"I definitely want you to join me," I say, flipping back the covers on her side of the bed.

"Did this thinking result in having any thoughts that you'd like to share?" she asks, slipping into bed.

"I concluded that, though I was disappointed when our flight was cancelled, it really worked out for the best. If the storm hadn't come when it did, we could've gotten out of town before it hit, meaning that we wouldn't have been here when the kids played in the snow, which means that we wouldn't have been here when Abigail had to be taken to the hospital to have her arm set."

"And if the storm had come later in the weekend, the visibility would've been so bad that our plane wouldn't have been allowed to land, keeping us from getting home, too," she offers, making me sure that she completely understands my line of thinking.

"Then it would seem that fate made sure that we were right where we belong."

"Yes, it would seem so," Mac says as she cuddles into my side, preparing to get a few hours of sleep before our baby girl wakes and needs attention from her.

"Good night, Mac," I say before applying a loving kiss to her lips.

When our kiss comes to a natural close, she whispers against my lips, "Good night, Harm." Then we cuddle together, waiting for sleep to claim us.


	38. Chapter 38

I hadn't planned on being away so long, but it has been a month since we last visited my series Rabb family, so here we go with the next installment...but first a few little points about it ...

This installment is only two real parts, but the second day is so long that I've had to split it to keep it within posting limits, so some of you may view it as three parts.

The last part is with Lee - the most awesome beta reader ever - so though it's a completed story, I'm not sure about how quickly you'll get updates.

Some of you may find that this story is different from the norm in that secondary characters have larger roles than usual. However, rest assure that this is still a series about the lives of Harm and Mac, there are times in everyone's life where those around you make choices that impact your or your family's life in some way, whether it be big or small. We'll just have to see if or how this all effects are our duo.

Okay, with all that said, one final item. I read all my reviews/Email, and I to as many as I can. There have been some that were very hateful, that I have not responded to, and there have been some that if I answered the question, would spoil the outcome of the series, so though I try - I'm a little behind right now due to some Internet problems - I try to at least send a 'thanks for reading' note, even though I may not necessarily answer your question, both as not to spoil, and because by the time I get there, I may have changed my mind. LOL  
**  
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO - Thinking More Clearly**

**PART ONE**

**THURSDAY JANUARY 30, 2009**

**NURSERY **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**2058**

**MATTIE'S POV**

I asked to feed Patty tonight, and though I was sure that Mac would allow me the opportunity to do so, I also thought that she'd linger in the room. However, to my surprise, she stayed only long enough to make sure that I was settled in the rocking chair with Patty securely in my arms before she left the room, not even waiting to see if Patty was going to accept the bottle, which I understand she still refuses from time-to-time.

"I think you should be glad that you're getting a bottle because, if you nursed, you might be getting butter instead of milk because Mac is really on edge tonight..." I begin as I lift the bottle to the proper angle of her mouth, "...and I'm afraid that's my fault. You see, I'm having a procedure done at the hospital tomorrow, and because she cares about me, she's really anxious about it," I continue as I place the nipple against Patty's lower lip.

With her clear, bright eyes staring up at my face, it appears that, not only do I have her undivided attention, but Patty completely comprehends what I'm saying to her.

"I don't want you to worry though because I'm looking forward to having it done." I pause to consider what I've just said. "Well, maybe not the actual procedure so much..." I say with a shrug of my shoulders. "...but I am excited about not being in so much pain all the time," I add to clarify as I brush the bottle's nipple over her lower lip.

"You want to know another reason why I'm not worried about tomorrow other than looking forward to being pain free? It's because, for the first time in months, I'm feeling better."

"So you see, little one, I'm going to be fine. Do you want to know why I'm doing better now?" I ask the infant in my arms, and somehow I expect her to reply.

Patty parts her lips, allowing the nipple to enter her mouth and, as she begins to take in the milk, it seems as if she's giving me an answer. If she's going to accept the bottle, then she's settling in to listen to my story.

"Two weeks ago I would've been thinking the worst and even praying that my life would be over tomorrow, but a new friend has me looking at a few things differently, and that has me feeling more positive about...well, everything."

Patty makes a cooing sound.

"You're curious and want to hear about my new friend, don't you?" I ask, and when Patty coos again, I take it as a yes.

"Then let me tell you what happened the day before I got my test results that allowed me to let go of some of what I was carrying around and helped me to start thinking more clearly. I had an hour left before I had to be at my next class so I decided that, instead of just walking around, I'd go to the campus café for a cup of hot chocolate and work on some of my homework from my first class. I was sitting with my attention focused on my homework that was displayed on the screen of my laptop and was perhaps a little preoccupied with thoughts of my current medical problems because my back was bothering me, so I didn't see him approach the table. Therefore, I was startled when I heard his voice."

*********FLASHBACK*********

**Thursday January 22, 2009**

**CAMPUS CAF****É**

**VIRGINIA TECH CAMPUS**

**BLACKSBURG, VA**

**1000**

"Mattie, right?"

His volume is low and his tone uncertain and unassuming, but since I didn't see him coming towards me, I feel like he's invaded my space and I feel vulnerable and defensive.

Since his voice didn't sound familiar, I don't expect to see anyone that I'll want to have a long exchange with, so I peer up over the top of my laptop screen to see who's speaking to me.

There is something about him... I think I may have seen him before, but I'm not sure where - perhaps he's in one of my classes.

"I guess you don't remember me," he says as if sensing my apprehension at speaking to someone whom I've never met.

"We've met?" I ask, though I'm a little embarrassed if we have because I don't remember meeting him.

"Yes, though I'm not surprised that you don't remember. It was at a party, and you weren't sober at the time," he says with no hint of being insulted by my lack of recall. "My name is Bryce." He pauses for a heartbeat. "I was a friend of Kyle's," he adds sadly.

I feel a little silly now that he's introduced himself to me, since, though he and I weren't friends, he and Kyle spent a good deal of time together.

"That's why you looked familiar to me. I saw you with Kyle a few times and we did meet at that one party. Kyle introduced you as his _best _friend."

"That's right," he confirms.

Is he talking to me so that he can point an accusatory finger at me for causing Kyle's death? Does he need for me to say something reassuring to him about the loss of his friend?

Those two questions dart through my mind, and both result in me wanting to bolt from my chair.

Bryce slips into the chair next to mine without an invitation to join me, amplifying my discomfort.

"I know that we don't know each other, really, but Kyle cared about you, so when I saw you, I wanted to come over and see if you were doing okay."

"Yeah ... I guess," I say, sounding less than definitive on the matter. "You?"

"It was rough, you know, right after, but I'm doing better now that, though it's been slow going, I think I finally understand that it wasn't because of me that he killed himself."

"Of course it wasn't you! It was me," I blurt out.

"Is that why you didn't come to his funeral ... because you thought that you were responsible for his death?"

"Not exactly," I begin. Though it is the way that I felt, hearing him say it aloud makes it sound like I was thinking only of myself and makes me feel self-conscious and ashamed, so I don't want to admit that to him.

"He didn't do it because of you or me," he says confidently.

I look at him, silently begging him to share how he can be so certain.

He must understand the look of pleading in my eyes because he responds to the unasked question.

"Let me share with you what it's taken me two months with the help of a therapist to begin to understand." He pauses long enough to take in a breath. "Kyle committed suicide because, deep inside, he didn't believe that he could have the life that he wanted and he also knew that keeping the truth from his family and friends was hurting everyone ... and he didn't want to keep hurting the people who he cared about."

This time when he stops speaking, I have the feeling that he's expecting me to say something, but I have no idea what to say, so I remain quiet.

"Kyle drank in hopes that he could drown out the voices that were shouting at him about what he was, but, in the mornings, he'd find that he was still the same person ... nothing had changed."

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me," I say, feeling frustrated because I feel that he's being cryptic.

"Didn't you ever wonder why he didn't want to make out at the frat parties?" he asks.

"He said that he was a private kind of guy and that displays like that in public were disrespectful," I explain, still not having caught on to what Bryce is trying to tell me.

"I thought it was very sweet of him." I add, defending Kyle.

"And I suppose you thought that he was just being a gentleman when the two of you were alone and he'd tell you that either he thought that he was too drunk or that you were, and he didn't want you to feel taken advantage of, right?"

"Yes," I say knowing that he feels that I should have figured it out by now, but whether it's my naivete or just that I have other things on my mind, like my test results, I have no idea, and I find that the way that he's dragging this out is very annoying.

"He told you about our dates?" I ask curiously, though at this point, the answer isn't important.

"Yes, he told me about every date you had with him ... in detail."

Now I don't know if I'm angry that I didn't mean more to him than just fodder for locker room gossip or embarrassed by the fact that there wasn't really anything to tell because Kyle and I didn't do anything other than kiss, and we didn't do much of that either.

"Kyle and I were more than just friends," he says in a way that tells me that he's struggling with the information that he wants to share. "Kyle cared about you a lot, and that's one of the reasons why he couldn't tell you that ... he was gay."

"Kyle was gay?" It comes out like a question, and I'm a little taken aback by the fact that such news stuns me in this day and age.

"He didn't tell you because he didn't want to hurt you or have you think that it was in some way your fault, and he didn't want to tell his parents for fear that they'd be disappointed in him, particularly his father."

His eyes have a distant look in them as if he's somewhere else.

Seemingly returning to this place in the present, he begins to speak again as suddenly as he'd stopped a few moments ago.

"He felt terrible about not telling you because, in not being honest with you, he knew that he was leading you to believe in a future with him that wasn't there, and he didn't want to hurt me anymore by keeping our relationship a secret. So, you see, it wasn't because of you or me, but because he couldn't accept himself that he chose to take his own life."

Bryce reaches out and puts his hand over mine on the table.

"I thought you should know," he says softly while patting my hand gently.

"I wish he'd have told me. I would've been shocked ... hurt at first, but once it had sunk in, I'd have still been his friend," I say now that I've had a moment to think about it.

"I wish I'd have told him that I would rather have been with him in the closet than to be without him, but wishing won't change the fact that he's gone. What we have to do now is what he was afraid that we couldn't do when he was alive, and that's not to judge him for who he was or what he did, but love him for how he enriched our lives while he was part of them."

"Have you forgiven him?" I ask softly.

"He wasn't keeping his true self from me, so I don't feel betrayed by any lie that he told to keep his sexual orientation a secret, so for that, I have nothing to forgive. For him taking his own life ... I'm working on it," he says with a certain spark that reminds me of the brightness in Kyle's eyes.

"I can see why he cared about you. You have beautiful eyes," I comment.

"Thank you ... and the next time I see you, I hope to see the smile that Kyle said you had that lit up a room," he says, standing up.

"I'm working on getting it back," I reply, forcing a small smile.

I realize that he's stepping away and I feel that he's taking a huge weight from me with him.

"Hey," I call out to him, a little louder in volume than I'd planned, and it causes me to get a strange look from the two girls who are studying at the table next to me.

Stopping, he looks at me.

"Maybe we should get together and talk again," I say, half suggesting, half asking.

"About Kyle?" he inquires.

"If he comes up, but I'm sure that we could find other things to talk about or maybe complain about, too, like school, homework, our parents. I don't know what else, but a girl can't have too many friends, can she?"

"No, she can't," he says with a smile that reaches his eyes.

"Let me get your number then, and I'll call you," I say, reaching for my phone so I can add his number to my contact list.

*********END FLASHBACK*********

"Bryce and I met for coffee on this past Tuesday, and we talked for hours. He's a great guy, and I think we're going to be long-time buddies," I say to Patty, who I now realize has closed her eyes, and though she's still sucking from her bottle, is probably close to sleep.

"I'll share with you one more piece of good news while you finish the last of your bottle, and then, little one, it'll be time to get you in your crib for the night," I say, lowering my voice to a more hushed tone.

"I heard that Kevin and Heather broke up, and it must be true because I checked their profiles on Facebook, and they've both changed their status to single. I don't know when the break up happened exactly, but it means that I might get my best friend back. In fact, I was going to call him before I turn in tonight."

I can tell by the way her lips have parted, releasing the bottle that I've lost my audience. Patty is sleeping, and it's time to put her in her crib.

**MASTER BEDROOM **

**SAME TIME**

**HARM'S POV**

I look up over the edge of the book that I'm reading in bed when Mac walks back into our room too soon for her to have finished feeding Patty.

"Did she fall asleep without eating?" I ask, knowing that being sleepy and not eating has had Mac returning to our room more quickly than usual on some nights.

"I don't know. Mattie came in and asked to feed her, and -"

"- Because her surgery is tomorrow, you couldn't say no to her," I say, cutting her off before placing a bookmark between the pages of the book in my hand and suggesting, "Since you've been relieved of the baby-watch for now, why don't we go ahead and turn in early?"

"I'm not ready for bed yet. If Patty doesn't nurse, I'll need to pump, but I want to wait for a few minutes before I check on Mattie to see if she had any trouble getting her baby sister to take the bottle tonight ... but you should go ahead and turn in."

"Thanks, but I sleep better when you're in bed with me, so I'll wait for you," I say, positioning my book to begin reading again.

"Why is it that when doctors say 'procedure' it sounds better or less risky than when they say 'surgery'?" she asks distractedly and with the cautious nervousness of a mother who's been reassured numerous times that the procedure is routine, but without finding it comforting because, though it may be common practice for the doctor, it's being uncommonly performed on one of her children.

"They call things like her vertebroplasty a procedure because it doesn't require a typical incision to perform..." I begin to explain, closing my book again. "...and because it makes it sound less dangerous than saying surgery for the patient and her parents," I answer, believing that anytime a general anesthetic is needed, it should be called 'surgery' whether they're 'cutting' into you or not.

"I hate that she has to have it, no matter what term the doctor used to describe it," she says as she sits down on the bed beside me.

"She's going to be okay," I say, sounding confident in the statement when it comes to the outcome of the surgery, but I feel less so about the result of the procedure, though I'm hopeful that it'll relieve the pressure on the nerve and thus rid Mattie of the pain that she's been experiencing in recent weeks.

"When we talked with her about it after dinner, I didn't get the feeling that she has any reservations about having the procedure done, did you?"

"I think that she probably has some, but, like we would be if it were one of us, she's thinking that if the procedure works and she's pain free again, it's worth the risk."

"You're probably right," she states, settling back against her pillow as if our conversation has settled her nerves, but her tone doesn't match the action.

"But you still don't like that she has to have it," I say quizzically in hopes of learning if I'm reading her behavior and voice correctly, or if perhaps there's something else that's bothering her that we need to talk about.

"Do you?" she inquires in a sharp tone.

"Of course I'm not _happy_ about it, but at the same time, the procedure is minimally invasive and she'll be in the hospital for only one day, meaning that she'll be here where she can take it easy for a couple of days before she returns to Blacksburg and school. Since she doesn't have classes on Fridays this semester, the doctor doesn't believe that it'll be necessary for her to miss any classes at all, but if she's experiencing more discomfort than most do afterward, she might miss the ones that she goes to on Mondays," I offer in explanation of how I'm looking at the situation in hopes that she can find something in what I've said to help her cope more easily.

"I know that you're right, but it isn't going to keep me from worrying until the she's out of the operating room tomorrow." She leans over, puts her hand on my chest and places her lips on mine.

The kiss is fleeting and, a brief moment later, she's using her hand on my chest to push away from me. "I need to go check on them ... make sure that everything's okay."

**MATTIE'S ROOM**

**THIRTY MINUTES LATER**

**MAC'S POV**

When I went into the nursery, I was surprised to find Patty in her crib and sleeping soundly. Not because I didn't think that Mattie was capable, but because Patty hasn't spent much one-on-one time with her, and I didn't know if Patty would take a bottle from her, but the empty bottle is evidence that Mattie wasn't only able to get Patty to sleep but eat as well**. **

I hear Mattie's voice coming from the other side of her door as I raise my hand to knock. At first I think that I should come back later, allowing her to carry on her conversation without interruption, but my curiosity as to whom she may be talking gets the better of me, so I rap on her door. Then, without waiting for a response, I enter her room.

"Hey, Mac," she says to me before she says, "It's Mac," into her phone.

After a moment's pause, Mattie throws "Kevin says hi" in my direction.

"Hello, Kevin," I say formally, and it conveys the right question to Mattie, which is when did the apparent change in their relationship occur from the last time that she and I spoke about him.

"Did you hear that? Mac said hi back," Mattie says into her phone.

Lowering the phone for a moment, Mattie asks, "Did you need something, Mac?"

"I wanted to find out how difficult Patty was for you and to see if you had any last minute questions about tomorrow," I say to let her know that I hadn't come in to invade her privacy, but that I did have a purpose for my visit.

The lines that form in her brow tells me that her caller doesn't know about the procedure tomorrow and that I'm to say no more.

"I'll be in the kitchen. Why don't you come find me when you've finished your call?" I suggest.

"Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes," Mattie says aloud, but then she mouths a silent 'thank you' before I turn to leave the room.

"Hey, would it be okay if Kevin comes over for dinner on Sunday?" she asks as I reach her bedroom door.

"That would be fine," I reply over my shoulder before exiting her room.

**KITCHEN**

**TEN MINUTES LATER**

**MATTIE'S POV**

"Sorry to keep you waiting, but it's the first time that I've talked to Kevin in a while, and since I called him to see if he's doing okay after splitting with Heather, I didn't want to rush to get off the phone."

"He and Heather broke up?" Mac asks with a raised eyebrow, an expression that reminds me of Harm.

"Yes," I answer, knowing that she probably wants to know more about it.

"Is he okay?" she asks.

"He seems to be, but that's probably because he says that he broke up with her. I know that, when I broke it off with Paul, I thought the decision was right, so, though I missed him, I was okay that he wasn't going to be around anymore."

"What about ending it with Kyle?" she asks.

"He broke up with me, so I hadn't formed the 'it's for the best' conclusion prior to the break up, so it made it much harder for me to come to terms with it ... and then when he killed himself ... it just put my emotions in turmoil."

"How are things now?" she asks with the tone of caring mother.

"Better," I answer in one word, knowing that it isn't going to be enough of an answer for her.

"What's different now than before?" Mac asks.

"Oh, where do I start?" I comment.

"How about at the beginning?" she replies.

"I want to look forward, so let's not go back that far," I say with a chuckle as I walk over to the refrigerator to see if anything catches my eye for a snack since I can't have anything to eat or drink after midnight.

"Things were going okay for you until around Thanksgiving, weren't they?" Mac asks.

"For the most part ... I mean dating Kyle, which lead to the problem with my grades and my drinking started before then, but I was still keeping it together until the week of Thanksgiving when Kyle broke it off with me. That's when I really started to have trouble, but I'm thinking more clearly now."

"Is there someone who I should thank for helping you get there? A new boy, perhaps?" Mac questions curiously as I take a carton of milk from the refrigerator.

"Yes and no," I say, reaching for a glass.

"Do you want chocolate chip or oatmeal cookies to go with that milk, because I think we're going to be here a while," Mac says firmly.

I look at Mac and smile.

"Chocolate chip, of course, but there isn't a lot for me to tell you."

"I beg to differ," she says, eyeing me curiously. "It seems that I'm behind on a lot of things, so bring your milk, I'll get the cookies, and you can fill me in on what's changed for you."

"Why don't I get out the cookies, too? That way, you can go get Harm so I won't have to repeat it to him later."

Normally, I wouldn't have invited him, but with my surgery tomorrow, if things don't go as expected and I die, then I'll have had this time to let them know that I left this world at peace, and if the surgery goes well, then tomorrow will be the start of the next chapter of my life.

"Okay, I'll go get him," Mac says agreeably before she dashes from the room.

**MOMENTS LATER**

I don't know what Mac said to him that got him to move so quickly, but I've barely had time to set out the cookies and milk when they enter the kitchen.

Harm pulls out a chair for Mac in which she takes a seat before he sits down next to her.

It's such a small gesture, but it shows just how much he loves her.

I take a seat, too, and I'm suddenly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to talk, but I'm having trouble getting started."

"Take your time," Mac says, reaching across the table and placing her hand over mine.

I look up and see that Harm has taken the first bite of a chocolate chip cookie, and I don't know what it is about that scene, but it brings a smile to my face and is just the thing that I needed to remind me that they may be my parents, but they _are_ human.

"I wanted to apologize for worrying you so much lately and to tell you that I'm thinking more clearly these days, so you can stop worrying about me."

"I can agree to worry less, but you're my daughter, and worrying to some degree comes with the job," Harm says in a caring, parental tone and with a loving smile.

"Well, you can both worry less, then," I say, returning a smile.

"What's changed, Mattie?" Mac asks.

Apparently, mothers don't let you off the hook so easily.

"The condensed version - me. I've changed ... well, I'm changing. I don't have life figured out yet, but I'm starting to work on the things that I know that I need to change."

Now Harm and Mac switch roles.

"I'm so proud of you," Mac says, squeezing my hand.

"What brought about this change that you're going through?" Harm questions, and I believe that I detect some skepticism in his voice.

"You do know that when you do good cop/bad cop, you aren't supposed to change roles in the middle - the good one is supposed to stay good, the bad one stays bad - don't you?" I say because, just a moment ago, Harm was the one sitting back, and Mac was the one who was questioning me.

"Don't change the subject," Harm says in his paternal, scolding tone.

I decide that I'm not in the best position to give him a rough time about anything right now, so I decide not to pursue the issue with him at this time and answer his question.

"So many things, like the two of you reminding me over the holidays that I have your support, but the most recent event that helped me happened a week ago when a friend of Kyle's spoke to me. We've talked a lot since then by phone and met for coffee once, and he's given me insights into what Kyle was going through, and that's helped me to start mourning his passing instead of feeling guilty about having caused it somehow."

"So you and this other boy are seeing each other?" Mac asks with concern.

"No, we're just friends and we'll never be more," I answer, intentionally not telling them the reason why I can be so positive about it. Bryce seems comfortable with who he is, but I know that the military's policy is 'don't ask, don't tell', and though Bryce isn't in the military, I don't know how Harm or Mac would feel about me being friends with someone who they knew was gay or lesbian, and with the current state of my life, I don't want to know the answer right now in case it's negative.

"You were talking to Kevin when I went in your room earlier. Are things better between you and him?" Mac asks.

"Things weren't really ever bad between us. I just felt awkward around him when he had a girlfriend, but I called him tonight to see how he was doing because I'd found out that he and Heather were over."

"Is he okay?" Mac asks.

"I'm not worried about him if that's what you mean. He sounded good, happy even when he told me that he was single again and that, since Mac was waiting to talk to me, he'd tell me all about it when he came over on Sunday for dinner."

"We're having company on Sunday?" Harm inquires with surprise.

"Yes, it just happened. I hadn't had time to tell you," Mac replies.

The table blocks their view of me wringing my hands in my lap because I'm apprehensive about the last thing that I want to tell them.

It may not be the right time, and I'm nervous about bringing it up.

"There is one more thing that I wanted to ask you tonight," I say, my voice shaking a little.

"About your surgery tomorrow?" Mac inquires with the concern of a mother.

"No, not about that. The doctor was pretty thorough about what I should expect. What I wanted to ask you is if the offer to be a Rabb is still good?"

"Absolutely," Harm states with certainty and without hesitation as his proud father smile starts to spread across his face.

I look at Mac, who's nodding her agreement.

"Then, after careful consideration, I'd like to have my name legally changed to Matilda Grace Johnson Rabb," I announce before adding teasingly, "unless you've changed your mind about letting me change the Matilda part."

"The form is saved on my computer. All I have to do is type in the name that you've chosen and print it out. It'll take two ... three minutes tops, so I'll go do it right now. You can sign it tonight," Harm says, already getting to his feet.

"You don't have to do it now," I say as he starts for the doorway.

Stopping, he turns to face me to say, "No reason to put it off. By having you sign the form tonight, it'll be ready to file tomorrow. Though, because we'll be at the hospital, I'll have to wait until Monday to file it," Harm replies. He says the latter as if he's thinking aloud rather speaking to us.

"Since Mattie's procedure is early in the morning, and though I'm not leaving the hospital until she's in her room and I've seen that she's okay for myself, if I'm able to leave the hospital early enough, I could swing by the courthouse and get things started on my way back home tomorrow," Mac offers.

"Then it definitely has to be signed tonight. I'll be back in a minute with the papers and a pen," Harm says as he turns towards the door.

"Aren't you going to at least finish your cookies first?" I ask to his back.

"I have only one left on my plate, so I'll eat it when I get back," he says over his shoulder as he exits the room.

True to his word, Harm returns just a few minutes later with papers and pen in hand, and after I've signed them as instructed, we finish our cookies and milk before we all head to bed for whatever rest we can manage to get with my surgery on our minds.


	39. Chapter 39

**PART TWO A**

**SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 2009**

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0643**

**HARM'S POV**

I feel her eyes on me. It's an eerie feeling when you're sound asleep and then some part of your brain alerts you to the fact that someone is staring at you.

She isn't lying in bed either. She's sitting on the edge of the bed on my side.

Today is Sunday, the one day of the week when I don't set an alarm but wake to the smell of Mac's French toast - that is, if the baby monitor that Mac leaves in the room with me so that she isn't distracted from cooking doesn't let out a peep and lets me sleep until breakfast is nearly ready.

'I don't smell anything cooking,' I decide as I sniff the air without opening my eyes. That tells me that I didn't oversleep.

Confused, I open my eyes.

"What time is it, Mac?" I ask. Why risk the glare of the alarm clock LED display being more than my sleepy eyes can take when my wife is the most reliable timepiece I've ever known? "Eastern time will do," I add.

"0643."

"Then why are you up?" I ask, wondering why she isn't taking advantage of the one day of the week when we can have a more relaxed schedule.

"Do you have any more news about where you're being transferred?"

I'm getting an uneasy feeling about this conversation, but I'm not sure why. However, the feeling has me sitting up and trying to clear the cobwebs from my head so that I don't miss her point when we get there.

"Is there a specific reason why you're asking me about it at this hour on a Sunday morning?" I ask, slightly irritated.

"I couldn't sleep," she replies with a sigh.

"I don't know anything more than I've already told you. The plan under the new president is to streamline operations for JAG services. The JLSO that began under you will be shut down, and the offices closed by the end of this month. Most of the personnel from there are to be assigned to either the Region Legal Service Office (RLSO) or to the Naval Legal Service Offices (NSLO) that will be remaining open in San Diego. What it means for me personally is that it's highly likely that my new billet will be as CO of one of the nine worldwide RLSO offices, though I think that it's unlikely that I'll get an international post such as Japan or Italy since the SecNav asked me to rank the seven US offices in order from the most desirable assignment to the least."

"Well, it doesn't matter where you're stationed," she says with a sigh. "I've given it a lot of thought, and I don't think that the children and I should go with you."

I inhale a sharp breath, one that doesn't hide the fact that her comment is a shock to my system.

"Why wouldn't you want to move with me? We may not even have to move since one of the possible billets is DC." If she doesn't want to move, I'm glad that I put DC on my list at number two and the office at Norfolk at number three.

"I don't mean permanently," she begins, realizing that she may have known what she meant, but it hadn't come out sounding temporary to me. "What I wanted to say is that, after a good deal of thought, I've come to the conclusion that it would be better for the children if we stayed here until the end of the school year."

I do a quick calculation, March to June.

"Mac, that's three months! I don't want to be away from my kids..." I soften my tone and grab onto her arm. "..._you_ for that long."

"It isn't really three months if you think about it. By mid-week the first week of March, you'll be out of the Pentagon and on leave. You plan to drive your grandmother back to the farm that weekend, and since the children will be on Spring Break the following week, we amended the plan to make it a family vacation by going there with you and staying a few days so the girls can finally see the farm. Now you're already to mid-March. Just four weeks later is Easter, and if you aren't too busy getting things squared away at your new command, you could come here for the long weekend to celebrate with the children. Then, just seven weeks later on June 4th, the kids will have their last day of school, and we'll be on our way to you."

"Though, when you break it down that way, it doesn't sound as bad, I still don't like the idea of you being here while I'm somewhere else, Mac. Haven't we already spent enough time apart?"

"I think you're getting the idea that I like the thought of being away from you. I don't. I'm only thinking about the transition from the children's point of view. Tyler and Abigail are getting older, and it's hard enough to leave your friends. To do it before the summer break just seems, I don't know, wrong somehow."

She leans in until her breasts are resting against my chest.

"I woke you and just dropped this on you, so wait until you're more awake and thinking more clearly to mull over the idea. Remember to think about it from the kids' perspective. We'll talk about it again later when you've had a chance to give it some thought," she says softly before her lips descend on mine.

Her kiss is loving and has started to wake up my lower half when she brings the kiss to an end.

As Mac starts to push away from me to stand, I comment, "There's no reason for you to rush off. You could come back to bed and maybe get some sleep before you have to get up."

Already on her feet, her eyes catch sight of the 'tent' that I'm making in the covers.

"I guess I could come back to bed for a few minutes..." she says in a purr. "...but I don't think that I'll get any sleep," she continues with a prideful smile, knowing that her kiss has caused the effect that she's seeing as she sits down next to me on the bed again.

Happy that we're in agreement on at least that, our lips come together as my arms snake around her.

The kiss becomes more heated, so I tighten my hold on her and roll over until I have her back on the mattress.

My hand found the hem of her night gown, and I've managed to push up the garment enough to be able to roam her skin with my hand when the quietness in the room - except for our heavy breathing - is shattered by a wail coming through the baby monitor.

I drop my head in disappointment. One of us _has_ to get up now.

With my forehead resting against hers, she says, "I think our baby has other plans for me this morning."

I don't move for a moment, hoping that Patty will quiet long enough for Mac to have time to take care of my need first, but with the crying continuing to echo through our room, I have no choice but to let her get up to tend to our daughter, who at this hour of the morning is ready for a diaper change and breakfast.

I move to let Mac get out of bed.

Reaching the door, she stops and looks back at me before opening the door.

"Sorry, Sailor," she offers regretfully before leaving our room, though that's of little help to me in resolving my 'problem'.

**DINING ROOM**

**LUNCH TIME**

**MATTIE'S POV**

"Mattie, I'll take that," Gee Gee says as she reaches to pick up my plate from the table.

"No, Gee Gee, I'll get it," I counter as I begin to stand by pressing my hands on the table top.

"I just don't want you to hurt yourself, dear," she replies with sincere concern.

"I know, but it isn't necessary. The procedure was a success, and I'm feeling better than I have in months."

"No pain?" Gee Gee asks.

I get the distinct impression that my answer will dictate whether she'll allow me to carry my dishes to the sink.

**SAME TIME**

**ABIGAIL POV**

'No one offered to take my dishes to the kitchen after I broke my arm,' I think as I watch Gee Gee fuss over Mattie.

"May I be excused?" I ask, even though I've eaten only a portion of my breakfast.

"You haven't eaten very much. Are you sure that you're finished?" Momma asks.

"Yes, Ma'am," I reply.

"Then you may be excused."

I reach for my plate, hoping that someone will volunteer to take it to the kitchen for me, but no one does. So I pick it up and head to the kitchen before going to my room.

**FRONT DOOR**

**1535**

**HARM'S POV**

"Hi, Kevin," I say, greeting our dinner guest.

"I hope that I didn't come too early. I just wanted to have time to talk to Mattie," Kevin says, sounding apologetic.

I step to the side to allow him a wider path to enter our home as I speak, "No, you aren't too early at all. Come on in. Mattie's in her room. I'll just go tell her that you're here."

"If she's sleeping, I don't want you to wake her. I can come back later," he says nervously as he stops in mid-stride as if he's preparing to turn around to leave the house.

"Nonsense, she's probably just hanging out in her room listening to music, texting a friend or doing both at the same time, but if she_ is _sleeping, we haven't seen you in awhile, so you can hang out with the rest of us until it's time for dinner and then talk to Mattie after we eat."

"I guess so," he says, sounding distracted as he steps far enough into the house so that I can close the door.

"If you remember your way to the living room, you can wait in there for Mattie."

"Please don't wake her if she's sleeping. I want her to be in a good mood when I talk to her."

"Okay," I say with some confusion.

'What does he want to say to her that she needs to be in a good mood?' I wonder as I step away from him to go to Mattie's room.

**LIVING ROOM**

**MOMENTS LATER**

**MAC'S POV**

"Kevin, Mattie said that she'll be out in a few minutes. She just wants to freshen up a bit first," Harm says, stepping into the room.

"Thanks, Mr. Rabb," Kevin acknowledges, sounding somewhat distracted.

Having watched Kevin shift in his chair a half dozen times in the last minute alone, I know that he has something weighing heavily on his mind and I know from the fleeting glance that Harm just gave me that he's aware of it also.

"If anyone needs me, I'm headed to the kitchen to start dinner," Harm states, and knowing him the way I do, I know that he's hoping that Kevin, being the polite young man who he usually is, will ask if he can help. Harm will then accept so that he can have a "guy chat" with him.

We're both surprised when Kevin not only doesn't offer to help, but doesn't comment on Harm's announcement in any way, not even to ask what we're having for dinner.

"Kevin, how are you doing in school?" I ask as Harm leaves the room with a shrug of his shoulders as if to say, I tried.

"School? ... Uh, school's fine," Kevin replies after a brief silence.

His response really didn't answer the question, but the fact that he responded at all is a sign that he hasn't tuned out everything and that part of him is actually with me.

Thinking that he may be apprehensive about seeing Mattie after her surgery, I want to put his mind at ease.

"Even though it sounds as if Mattie might be in bad shape based on her discharge instructions, the restriction on lifting no more than ten pounds is only temporary, and the no-driving restriction has more to do with her having been put under a general antithetic than it has to do with her health. Her procedure was a complete success, and she looks good, but the best part is that she says that she has some discomfort at the injection sites, but that she isn't in any pain for the first time in months."

"I didn't know that she was in so much pain prior to her procedure until I spoke with her last night after I read her Facebook page where she posted that she'd survived her trip to the hospital and was feeling much, much better. If I'd known, I'd have been checking on her more often, and if she'd bothered to mention that she was going into the hospital the next morning when she called me on Thursday night, I'd have been there," Kevin says with a tinge of hurt in his voice.

"I don't think that she told anyone. When you tell people something like that, they have questions about the procedure ... the outcome. I just don't think that she wanted to talk about any of that," I offer, though I'm sure that it's of little consolation to the hurt that he's feeling at the moment about being shut out of her life.

"She shuts down and pushes people away when she's scared," Kevin comments.

"Yes, she does," I confirm.

"I wish that she'd have told me," he mumbles just above a whisper, so I'm not sure whether he was speaking to me or to himself.

"I don't know what her reason might have been, but Mattie did mention to me that you and Heather aren't together any more. Perhaps she thought that you had enough on your plate without worrying about her," I offer as another possible explanation.

"Maybe ... but I thought that I was her best friend, and the fact that you're going into the hospital is something that you tell your best friend."

I agree with him and, since I have nothing that I can add to what Mattie's motivation for not telling him might have been, I decide to shift the conversation to something else.

"I want you to know that I understand the pain involved when a relationship ends, so I have to ask how you're doing since you and Heather ended your relationship."

"I'm fine with it," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

Perhaps he realizes that his response didn't really answer my question or it may be that he realizes that I may think that he's in denial about his feelings and will keep asking him questions if he doesn't say more because he quickly adds, "I broke up with her, so it wasn't as if it was a surprise to me."

"Just because you were the first one to realize that it wasn't working doesn't mean that it hurts any less," I say with understanding before offering, "If you want to talk about it, and you aren't comfortable talking to your mother, I'd be willing to listen."

"Mrs. Rabb, I know that you're trying to be helpful and I appreciate it, but I really am fine with the break up and I'm doing really well in school. That isn't to say that I don't have more than a few things on my mind, but ..." His voice trails off.

"...But it's none of my business," I finish for him, figuring that trying to be polite is what had caused him to leave his sentence incomplete.

"No, Ma'am. It's just that you're a woman, and ..." Again his voice trails off, but this time he doesn't let the silence linger. "Do you think that Mr. Rabb...?"

I understand even though he let his question go unfinished - he needs a man's ear.

"Why don't you go see if Harm needs help with dinner? In the meantime, I'll go tell Mattie not to rush. That should give the two of you some time to talk."

"Thank you, Mrs. Rabb," he replies.

'Why didn't he just follow Harm into the kitchen in the first place?' I wonder while I watch Kevin stand to leave the room.

On second thought, I don't think that he was sure that Harm would be willing to supply him with an ear or advice, depending on what's on his mind.

**KITCHEN**

**HARM'S POV**

"Hey, Kevin. Did Mac send you in here to find out how long it's going to be until dinner?"

"No, Sir," he answers.

"Did she send you in here to get something to drink?" I ask as I stir the combination of ingredients that I've put in the pot that's cooking down to be the sauce for the spaghetti.

"No, Sir," he answers nervously. "I kind of came in here on my own after I asked Mrs. Rabb if she thought that you'd be willing to talk to me...you know, give me a man's perspective on things."

"Is it school or woman trouble?" I ask.

"Did you ever wake up one day and wonder where your head had been because your life wasn't going the way you wanted it to and you knew that you'd made the choices that got you there, but you weren't sure why you'd made the choices you did? You just knew that, now that you were thinking more clearly, you had to make changes and hope that you hadn't caused so much damage that you couldn't go back and make things right."

"I have ... a few times, actually. That happen to you recently, did it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"To tell you how I got to that point would take longer than we have before dinner is ready, but the first time it happened to me was after a plane crash. That's when I decided to go into law. Has your epiphany led you to a different career?"

"No, Sir. I love making movies. I know that making it big is a long shot, but as long as I can do it, even as a hobby, I'll be happy."

"Then is it your grades? Has a girl got you off track in your studies?" I ask because, even though he came in here to speak with me, he hasn't been forthcoming on what he really wants my opinion or advice.

"My grades are good, very good, actually, but you got the girl part right, Sir. She was all wrong for me. She wasn't the one who I wanted to be with, but I went out with her anyway. Why did I do that?"

"The short answer is because you're male."

"That doesn't help much, Sir," he comments.

"Then I guess I'll have to go with the longer answer. There is no one universal reason why men do the things we do. Only you know the answer to the question of why. However, if you're asking me for a place to start looking, I'd say check your ego. It can lead you astray. It starts drinking in the attention that you're getting from her, and the next thing you know, she's your girlfriend. The other possibility is that she was the first girl to come along after you decided that you couldn't have the girl who you wanted, so you settled for the girl who wanted you."

"What was her name, Sir?" he asks, and I shoot him a raised eyebrow. "Pretend I didn't ask that," he says apologetically

Remembering that Kevin doesn't have any or limited contact with his father, I decide that I should be more open with him. After all, he did come seeking my advice.

"Renee Petersen, and she was a double whammy," I reply, resulting in Kevin looking at me with a puzzled expression. "I mean that she was both of those problems in one. I met her when she used me in a commercial that she was making for the Navy. She said things like she liked my voice ... I was a good looper ... things like that ... and she pursued me. At the same time, Mac had a man sniffing around her, and he seemed to have her attention, so I didn't think that I could have the woman whom I wanted, which led me to keep seeing Renee until, it seems like before I even knew it, she was my girlfriend. We dated for over a year before she started thinking more clearly and came to the conclusion that if I hadn't asked her to marry me yet, I wasn't going to because I wasn't _in_ love with her."

"She dumped you, Sir?"

"Yes, she left me, but I was thinking more clearly, too, by then and I didn't try to stop her from leaving or go chasing after her."

"That's when you and Mrs. Rabb started dating?" Kevin asks, which seems odd. Surely he's heard the story from Mattie, or what she knows of it.

"No. It took a few more years for Mac and me to get together, and the story of our relationship is long and complicated, so let me just say that if you came to the conclusion that you were with Heather because you didn't think that you could have the girl you really wanted, then it's never too late to find out if she feels the same way about you."

"What if she doesn't ... feel the same way about me, I mean?"

"It'll hurt like hell, but at least you'll _know. _Then, after you work through the pain and are thinking straight again, you'll be able to move forward without having any 'what ifs' floating around and making you question your future choices."

"Thanks, Mr. Rabb."

"I hope it helped."

"It did."

"Good, and I hope that you like spaghetti because tonight is pasta night at the Rabb house."

"If you want, I don't really know how to cook, but I make great garlic bread," he says, pointing to the loaf of bread that I have out on the counter.

"Then you're in charge of the bread."

"Mattie says that her grandpa is your stepfather. Is that right?"

The question is coming out of the blue, but I'm sure that he must have a reason for asking, and since I've already offered advice once tonight, I decide to answer first and see where this goes.

"Yes."

"Then may I ask you about one more thing?"

"Okay," I reply, wondering what the fact that Frank is my stepfather has to do with anything.

"A few weekends back, my mom told me that she met someone and that they've been dating since early December, but yesterday she told me that he's coming to dinner next weekend so that I can meet him. Does it feel as weird as it sounds to see some guy who isn't your dad with your mom?"

"It was for me, but I don't know that it'll be the same for you. Our situations are completely different. I was younger than you are when Frank came into our lives. If I'd been your age, with a little more understanding of the need that people have for love and companionship, it might have been easier for me to handle. I also might have felt differently if my parents, like yours, were divorced, but my dad was MIA, which, as unrealistic as it might have been to an adult, I believed that my dad would come walking in the door any minute and, to me, Frank being around meant that he wouldn't be welcomed home. That made me angry, and I took it out on my mom and Frank."

"I don't want to hurt my mom, but if I hate the guy, should I tell my mom the truth?" Kevin asks as he cuts the loaf of bread in half lengthwise.

"Tricky question because you don't want to hurt her, but you shouldn't lie to her." I pause briefly. "If you want my take on it," I wait to get an affirmative nod before I continue, "I think that you should be truthful, but be sure that you aren't jumping to conclusions."

"I'm not sure that I know what you mean."

Lifting the lid on my pot of water to see if it's ready for me to add the pasta, I answer, "What I mean is, don't tell her that you hate the guy when you've just met him. She isn't going to buy that you really mean it anyway. She's just going to think that you're lashing out at her for trying to find a little happiness in her life. However, I don't think that you should pretend that you're okay with everything if you aren't, either. For instance, you might tell her that seeing her with someone who isn't your father makes you feel uncomfortable ... that you need some time to get to know him before you can make a judgement, or that he seems like an okay guy, but you need time to accept their relationship...whatever it is that you really feel that isn't based on some knee-jerk response that you have to your mom being with a man who isn't your dad. Understand now?"

"Yes, Sir, and thanks for talking with me. I feel a little better now. I just hope that it'll be as easy to talk to Mattie."

"Good luck with that because woman are ... they aren't like us."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Can't live with them, can't live without them, wouldn't you say, Mr. Rabb?"

"Never within earshot of a woman," I say with a chuckle as I drop the spaghetti into the boiling water.


	40. Chapter 40

**PART TWO**

**SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 2009 cont'd**

**DINING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**DINNERTIME**

**KEVIN'S POV **

I felt better after talking to Mr. Rabb, but the time spent with him kept me from having time to exchange more than 'hello' and 'nice to see you' with Mattie before dinner was ready.

I've been here for dinner before, though it's been awhile since the last time, so it may just be my imagination when it seems like all the faces at the table, the adult ones anyway, have their eyes trained on me when "Amen" is uttered by everyone.

**MATTIE'S POV**

Grace having been said, the serving dishes begin to circulate around the table for everyone to serve themselves.

While passing the first dish to Kevin who's seated beside me, I notice that he looks a little uncomfortable.

'We haven't been spending a lot of time together recently, so I must be reading him wrong since he's been here to dinner before,' I think as I take a dish from Gee Gee, who's sitting on the other side of me.

"Kevin made the garlic bread," Harm says, drawing my attention to him.

I see him place a piece of bread on Sami's plate, who's sitting to his left, and take a second slice and drop it on his plate before passing the bread to his right, to Gee Gee.

"Do you cook a lot, Kevin?" Gee Gee asks.

"No, Ma'am. I usually just microwave a frozen meal or eat in the school cafeteria."

"That's understandable since you're a busy college student and film maker who lives in a dorm," Mac comments.

"The dorm thing has a lot to do with it, but even if it weren't a factor, I wouldn't cook anymore often than I do because I know how to cook only a few things, and garlic bread as a meal just isn't all that satisfying."

"I take leftovers from here that I can microwave for dinner. Maybe your mom could cook extra on the weekends so you could do that, too," Mattie suggests.

"That would be a good idea if I didn't get my cooking skills from my mother. There are one or two things that she cooks really well, but most of the time it's something out of a can or take out."

"Then no wonder you're so thin. You don't get any home-cooked meals. Mattie, you should have Kevin come to dinner this week," Gee Gee suggests.

"You wouldn't mind?" I ask.

"Cooking for one more wouldn't be a problem for me. So any night...every night is okay with me," Gee Gee replies.

Kevin looks confused. I assume that it's about why Gee Gee will be in Blacksburg this week.

"I'm fine..." I begin so that he doesn't get the wrong idea. "...but my worry-wart parents decided that I shouldn't stay alone, so Gee Gee is going to stay at the house with me in Blacksburg for at least the next week, " I inform him.

"I'm driving them out there first thing in the morning so that I can have Mattie there in plenty of time to attend her afternoon classes if she's feeling up to it," Mac adds.

"I wanted to go back today, but the doctor said that it might be best if I stayed here for a couple of days after my discharge, which meant staying here yesterday and most of today. Since I can't drive for two weeks because they put me under, leaving late afternoon today would have meant that whoever drove me would be driving back here pretty late, so it was decided that it would be better to have Mac drive me out early tomorrow instead," I explain.

"When I leave here, I'll be headed out there. You could ride with me if you want," Kevin offers with a shrug of his shoulders like I might not want to spend the time with him.

"Really? That would be great! We could talk on the way there," I say excitedly. Then I remember that I'm not traveling alone this time.

"What do you think, Gee Gee? Would you mind going out there tonight?"

"It would certainly make things easier on Sarah for her not to have to make the trip out there and back with the baby tomorrow. I'm packed and ready to go, so if you don't mind if I nap in the car and it's okay with your parents, let's do it. Let's leave tonight," Gee Gee says accommodatingly while patting my knee under the table.

I look at Harm.

"Mac and I will talk about it after dinner," he says in that fatherly tone that tells me that he doesn't want to discuss it at the table.

I look at Mac.

She doesn't say anything, but she opens and closes her eyes as she subtly drops her head just a little bit, letting me know that her answer is yes, and I know that she'll be able to talk Harm into letting me go tonight.

To be sure that Harm knows that I'm not going to press the issue at the dinner table and risk him saying no without any discussion, I decide to change the subject of our dinner conversation to something that has nothing to do with Blacksburg, school or Kevin.

"Dad, I've been meaning to ask if you've heard any more news about where you're going to be assigned next."

My question has caused Ty and Abigail to look his way to hear the answer if he has one.

"A few places have been brought up, but nothing is certain until I have the orders in my hand," Harm answers.

"Do you know when you're going to find out?"

"I don't know the exact date, but I should have my orders some time this week or early next week at the latest."

**SAME TIME**

**ABIGAIL POV **

I watch as Kevin looks at Mattie as if she's what's being served for dinner instead of spaghetti.

I listen while everyone talks to Kevin to make him feel welcome and to Mattie who's bubbling because she's so happy.

It's enough to make me lose my appetite.

"May I be excused?" I ask, even though I've eaten only a few bites.

"You've hardly touched your dinner. Are you sure that you're ready to leave the table?" Momma asks.

"Yes, Ma'am," I reply.

"You didn't eat much of your lunch either. Are you feeling okay?" Momma asks.

"I feel fine. I'm just not hungry, so may I be excused?"

"She did eat a fair amount of her breakfast," Dad comments.

"True," Momma acknowledges. "So you may be excused, but no dessert tonight."

"Yes, Ma'am," I say to let her know that I understand the condition of leaving the table without eating anymore of my dinner as I reach for my plate.

I start towards the kitchen thinking, 'I'll bet that Mattie gets dessert tonight even if she doesn't finish her dinner.

**DEN**

**MINUTES AFTER DINNER**

**MAC'S POV**

One by one the children asked to be excused from the table, and Harm looked at me, "After the dishes are taken care of, I'll meet you in the den to discuss their departure," he said, indicating with a tilt of his head that he was talking about letting Mattie go with Kevin to Blacksburg tonight.

Now standing in the den, I wonder how I managed to be the first one in here since he left the kitchen before me.

While I loaded the dishwasher, I was trying to word my argument for letting her go, but I wasn't able to come up with one since I couldn't see the other side. There's simply no reason why she couldn't leave this evening, especially since Harm's grandmother has already endorsed the plan.

The moment I entered the den, I knew _that_ was going to be my strategy. I wasn't going to argue that Mattie should be allowed to go, but put the burden of proof on him and make him support his position that she shouldn't be allowed to leave tonight.

It'll be much easier for me to counter his points if I know what they are first, and if he has a sound argument, he may change my mind.

Harm finally enters the room.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" he asks.

I'm confused by his question since he called this meeting and should know exactly what we're supposed to be talking about.

"Is your memory failing you?" I counter.

"No, it's just that I saw you let Mattie know that you were in her corner at dinner, which means that it's okay with you if she leaves tonight. My only concern was that my grandmother was giving in just to let Mattie have her way, but I've just come from speaking to her. She really is okay with leaving tonight. So as long as they agree to call to let us know that they made it there safely, I see no reason why they can't leave as soon we tell them that we think it's okay."

I'm a little surprised that Harm didn't need to be talked into it, and even though it means that the time that I spent thinking about what I'd say to change his mind was a waste, I'm pleased that Harm agrees since I think that it'll be good for Mattie to have some time with Kevin.

"Then why'd you ask what I wanted to talk about if we don't really have anything to discuss?"

"If we go right back out there, she'll know that you didn't have to talk me into it. We wouldn't want her to think that, would we?"

"No, we wouldn't," I say with a sly smile. "No point in giving her the idea that there was no good cop/bad cop going on in here."

"Exactly. So we could either stand in here and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes or we could talk about something else. You choose."

"Then why don't I compliment you on growing as a father? Not so long ago, there wouldn't be a need to talk about anything else because we'd be discussing letting her go."

"I've been working on myself," he says with a boyish-looking grin.

He looks so cute that I want to kiss him, but if I do that, it might start something that will take much longer than I think he wants to spend in here giving the impression that we're trying to reach a mutual decision. Besides, I want them to get as early a start possible on their drive out to Blacksburg so they aren't traveling too late into the night.

"I also should tell you that I believe you handled the question at dinner about your next duty station perfectly. Our children would be heartbroken if you told them that we're going back to San Diego and then your orders come and you've been assigned somewhere else."

"That, and I didn't want any of the kids to tell my mother when she calls to talk to her grandchildren that we're moving to San Diego before it's official," Harm explains.

"Yes, if you had to call her back and tell her that the Navy had changed its mind and we weren't coming, Trish would be crushed that her grandchildren weren't going to be living just a few blocks away after all."

There's a brief moment of silence.

"You know that, unless I get orders that keep me here, we're going to have to reach an agreement on a move date for everyone before we tell anyone else," he says with a raised eyebrow.

"Have you had enough time to think about what I said this morning to talk about it now?" I ask doubtfully because, one, I don't believe that he's had enough time to give it proper thought, and two, that he wants to take the time to discuss it now since I don't think that it'll be something that we'll be able to agree on quickly.

"Not yet," he answers honestly.

"We should probably go out there and tell them to get going. We want them to get as early a start as possible so they aren't on the road too late," I say, accepting his answer.

"Do you think that we've been in here long enough that it'll be convincing that you talked me into letting her go?" he asks.

"I do. We want her to think that we discussed it but not fought about it," I say with a smile, earning me a flyboy smile in return.

**KEVIN'S CAR**

**EN ROUTE TO BLACKSBURG**

**AN HOUR LATER**

**KEVIN'S POV**

Mattie had been so sure that she was going to be able to ride back with me that she'd had me load her great grandmother's bag in my car, as well as the few things like her laptop bag that she totes back and forth with her while her parents had had a conference in the den. So once they'd emerged with their decision, we'd been ready to get on the road after she'd exchanged hugs and goodbyes with her family.

We'd started the trip talking mostly about what I liked to eat so that Gee Gee could make a grocery list when she got up in the morning, and I'd volunteered to take her to the store after my one class tomorrow morning.

I'd offered to take Mattie to campus for her classes, too, but she'd declined by saying that she'd already made arrangements to have rides from friends this week and that Bryce was picking her up tomorrow. I'd wanted to ask why him, but I hadn't had to. Gee Gee had asked the question first. "Is Bryce your new fellow?"

I'd been glad to hear that they were just friends, but at the same time, I was still a little jealous. Why had she asked Bryce to take her to class when she could've asked me? I'm her friend, too.

Since Gee Gee nodded off in the backseat, the car has been quiet, and I'm able to really think about how nice it feels to be in the car with Mattie riding shotgun.

Even with her great grandmother along, it's the first time in many weeks that I don't feel as if I'm leading a life in an alternate universe.

It's like old times and it feels good.

"You know ... if you need a ride anywhere ... you can call me, right?" I ask softly, not wanting to wake Gee Gee.

"I would've asked you before, but I didn't want to intrude on your time with Heather. Well, that, and let's face it. Anytime a girl and a boy are friends, people assume that, if they aren't a couple, they want to be one, and I didn't want anyone's interpretation of our friendship to cause any problems between the two of you."

"Thank you for the thought, but I'm your friend and I'm always going to be your friend. So if there's a next time, call me."

I get an affirmative nod from her.

"I know that I told you over the phone, but I want you to know that I meant it. I'm really sorry that it didn't work out for you and Heather," Mattie says sincerely.

"Thanks for the sentiment, but there's no reason for you to feel badly for me. It wasn't meant to be. She wasn't the right girl for me."

"After we spoke last, one of the things that I wanted to be sure that I told you today - face-to-face - is that I'm sorry if you felt left out or as if I were pushing you away. I never want you to feel like you aren't an important part of my life," Mattie says remorsefully.

Since I'm driving, I can't risk looking at her for very long, but from the brief look that I did get, I think that her cheeks had a rosy cast to them. Since the only light filtering into the car is from lights along the highway, maybe they're casting a glow on her skin that makes it appear as if she's blushing.

"It's good to have you back," she says just above a whisper but loudly enough that I'm sure that she said it.

I reach for her hand, taking it in mine.

"It's good to be back. My head has been somewhere else lately, but I'm thinking more clearly now."

"Hey, I've been suffering from that same clouded-mind-syndrome, too. Do you suppose that it's something about the air in Blacksburg?" she asks with a laugh as she tosses her head back against the headrest.

Her smile ... her laugh ... how good it is to see and hear that again.

"I'm glad that you're here," I say, giving her hand a little squeeze.

"I'm happy that you're back in my life," she responses sincerely.

"I am back and I'm not going anywhere again."

"Promise?" she says like a question.

"I promise," I reply, wondering if she has any idea of how committed I am to keeping that promise.

The car falls silent, but that's okay with me. Since her hand is in mine, I feel secure in knowing that we'll talk more when we have a chance to do so privately because, even though her great grandmother appears to be asleep, I'm not comfortable with sharing anything else with Mattie while she's in the car with us.

**MASTER BEDROOM **

**BEDTIME**

**HARM'S POV**

Having heard from Mattie and knowing that she and my grandmother are safely at the house in Blacksburg, my focus is on the book in my hand that I've been reading for the last few nights.

I'm so close to the end that I'm hoping that Mac will take a little longer making her final check on the children because a few extra uninterrupted minutes will allow me to finish reading this book tonight.

**MINUTES LATER**

I have just two pages left when the bedroom door opens.

"Harm..."

The way that Mac's voice sounded when she said my name, I know that she's in some kind of distress that warrants my immediate attention.

"What is it, Mac?" I question, trying to read just a few more words in order to get that much closer to finishing my book.

"I found her in her bed crying, and I can't get her to tell me what's wrong."

I look up from the book, and the scene in front of me causes me to feel the distress that I heard in Mac's voice.

Mac has our daughter's hand in hers, and Abigail is standing in front of Mac with tears rolling down her face.

I drop my book. Finishing it now is unimportant when one of my children is crying.

"What's wrong, Princess?" I ask.

She's so upset that her only response is to inhale a ragged breath as she continues to sob heavily.

If it were one of the other children, I'd have jumped out of the bed, but Abigail and I aren't as close, and I'm not sure that making sudden movements is the best thing for me to do in her case.

"Did you have a bad dream?" I ask.

Abigail shakes her head, indicating a negative response as she and Mac get closer to the bed.

"Does something hurt? Are you sick?" I ask, holding out my arms, hoping that she'll take it as an invitation to get up on our bed and that she'll allow me to hug her.

Again, the only response that I get is a negative shake of her head as she gets up on the bed with some help from Mac.

With my arms wrapped around her, I wait until her breathing has evened out, a sign that she's calmed some before I make a plea for her to tell us what's wrong.

"Abigail, please tell Daddy why you're so upset."

I can hear her take in a sharp breath as she lifts her head off my shoulder to look at my face.

"Why don't I have a nickname?"

Though I was aware that we don't address her by a shortened form of her name, I didn't see it as a problem before now and I don't understand why it's suddenly come up in the middle of the night.

"Mattie introduced herself to me as Mattie. I didn't know that she had a longer name until later, and Tyler asked us to call him Ty. When Miss Rosa introduced us to you and your sister, she called her Sami, not Samantha, and she told us that your name was Abigail, so we thought that it was the name that you wanted us to use," I explain in a soft, calming tone. "Would you like for us to call you Abby, short for Abigail?" I ask, maintaining my soft tone.

"I'm not sure. Can I let you know later?" she replies.

"Of course you can, Sweetheart," Mac says, brushing strands of our little girl's hair away from her face with her hand.

"Do you love Mattie more than me?" Abigail asks, looking down towards her hands.

"No!" I answer emphatically before asking, "Why would you think that?"

She looks up at me until her big brown eyes filled with sadness meet my eyes.

"Everyone has been doing everything for Mattie because she's hurt, but no one is doing anything for me because I broke my arm, and it's because you love her more, right?"

"No, Princess, that isn't right. We've been doing things for Mattie because the doctor told us that, where she's hurt, if she did too much, it could make things worse. Your doctor said that, with your arm in a cast, you're going to be just fine, but that you_ can and should _use your arm so that, once the cast comes off, you'll have no trouble doing things like playing the piano again, not because we love her more. We love you_ both_ very much."

She doesn't seem convinced by my answer.

"Yes, we love you both a whole lot, and I'm sorry that we didn't take time to have a family meeting to explain what's going on with Mattie and that she's going to need extra attention from us for a while, but that's only until she's feeling better," Mac says apologetically.

"Daddy's sorry, too. I forget that you and your brother are getting old enough for us to explain things to you so that you can better understand what's happening around here."

"I was eight on my birthday last month," she says, reminding us of how old she is.

"Eight, no you can't be eight. I want you to be my little girl forever," I say playfully while putting my hand over my heart, and I'm rewarded with girly giggles.

"Do you know what I like after I've had a good cry?" Mac asks Abigail.

"No, what?" Abigail answers with wide eyes.

"I like to eat ice cream with a cookie and then get some sleep," Mac replies. "Why don't we go into Momma's bathroom and wash your face while Daddy goes to the kitchen for your ice cream? You can sit in here with us while you eat it and, when you're finished with your ice cream, Momma will take you back to your room and tuck you into bed, okay?"

"Okay," Abigail agrees but asks in amazement, "Can I really have ice cream _and_ a cookie?" She knows that when we have dessert, it's usually one or the other but never both at the same time.

I lift her off my lap to put her feet on the floor.

"You can this once," I say, moving to get out of bed to go get her ice cream and giving my consent to ignore the fact she was told earlier that, as a result of not finishing her dinner, she wasn't going to get any treats this evening.

**THIRTY MINUTES LATER**

Mac and I return from tucking our little girl back into bed and, as we remove our robes, Mac asks, "Do you think that you can handle babysitting chores by yourself this coming weekend?"

"Sure. What are you planning to do?" I ask strictly out of curiosity.

"I was thinking about it when we were tucking in Abigail. If I found her nearly unconsolable in tears tonight, she's been feeling left out for a while, and a good cry and ice cream might have made her feel better tonight, but I think what she really needs is some mommy and Abigail time. She and I haven't done that since ... I can't remember when ... but before Patty was born."

"Ah, a little retail therapy," I comment, straightening the covers on my side before getting back into bed, resulting in the book that I was reading earlier hitting the floor.

"No, actually I was thinking more about lunch and mommy and daughter pedicures, but I wouldn't rule out a little light shopping," Mac says, pulling the yet undisturbed covers down on her side of the bed.

Settling into bed with my book in hand - I'm going to finish those last two pages before I go to sleep - I eye Mac.

"You know that you lied to her tonight, right?"

"I did not!" Mac responds defensively, stopping any attempt to get into bed until she's set me straight.

I point an accusatory finger in her direction. "Yes, you did. You told her that you like ice cream with a cookie after a good cry, and that's a lie." I turn my finger around to point at myself. "I happen to know that you want a hot fudge sundae with whipped cream, sprinkles and a cherry on top!" I state with certainty.

"I didn't lie. I improvised."

"How very Marine of you," I comment, shaking my head at her covering for herself.

"Yes, it was ... Marine as in saving Navy's six again," she says teasingly as she crawls into bed.

"How do you figure that?" I ask, looking at her quizzically.

"I knew that we didn't have any hot fudge, whipped cream or cherries," she says slyly as she pulls the blankets up over her. "I kept it ice cream so that it wasn't really a lie, but by me not telling her _exactly_ what I liked, it saved you from having to come back in the bedroom to tell Abigail - your little girl who'd been in tears just moments before - that you didn't have what you needed to make her a hot fudge sundae," she explains.

"Good thinking," I respond with gratitude at having spared me from having to do that, but also amazed that she'd thought of that in the midst of a tense situation.

"That's why you have me, Sailor," she says before pressing her lips to mine.

Her lips leave mine too soon to suit me.

"Are you going to be up reading long?" she questions, looking down at my book.

"Not long ... I have only a few pages left to read, but you should go ahead and try to get to sleep. I'll finish this book, go check on Abigail to make sure that she's gone to sleep and then I'll come back and snuggle with you," I reply.

Her lips come to mine again in a brief good night kiss.

"Good night, Harm," she says as she lays her head on her pillow.

I lean over, place my lips on hers for one more kiss and then I whisper, "Good night, Mac," before sitting up and opening my book to read those last two pages.


	41. Chapter 41

The usual disclaimers apply.

Thank you to not only my beta reader, Lee, on this one, but also to janlaw. She supplied us with information regarding possible new assignments for Harm, and from that list we picked his next duty station. Of course, she told us that at his rank, billets would be administrative and boring, so I'm sure that I'll be taking "writer's privilege" at some point to make his job a little more exciting than pushing papers. Again, thank you, ladies!

**CHAPTER FORTY-THREE - Hearts and Flowers**

**PROLOGUE **

**FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 2009 **

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**BEDTIME**

**HARM'S POV **

It's been a long day, and the only thing on my mind is getting to sleep. However, unaware of the meeting that ended with me having been assigned to complete not one but two reports for the SecNav before I begin my transition leave, my wife has other plans for tonight...and not the fun, relaxing type of activities that, though further exhaust you, allows sleep to claim you more quickly and makes for a more restful night's sleep.

"Harm, it's been a couple of days since I first broached the subject, and you should be ready to discuss what I said about the children and me staying here until the end of the school year," she says, touching my hip with her hand.

"Can we table this talk for now?" I ask.

I didn't like the notion when she brought it up on Sunday morning, and the idea hasn't grown on me in the least. Besides, I'm just too mentally exhausted to debate the subject with her tonight.

"I don't see how we can put it off any longer. You received your orders today, and I need to know that you understand and are on board with the idea before we tell our children where we're moving."

I roll over to face her.

"Mac, I don't think that there's anything that you can say that will make me like or be okay with the idea of living apart, especially when it doesn't have to be that way. My orders aren't for unaccompanied duty."

"I know that you love us and that living apart isn't the way that you'd prefer to handle things, but if you take the emotion of separation out of the equation to look at the situation logically, you'll see that waiting for us to join you has other benefits for not only the children but for us as well."

"Really, like what?" I question with attitude.

"If we're all going together, you'd need to allow time for more stops when traveling with our five children, which means that the plan that you have for all of us to go to Pennsylvania to take your grandmother home that first weekend in March and stay a few days since Ty and Abigail will be out of school for their spring break the next week would have to be cancelled so that the extra days could be used to make the trip across the country. Then, once we get there, where would we all stay when the tenants in our house have a lease that doesn't expire until April 30th?"

She doesn't give me time to respond to the question. She just continues to explain. "...In temporary housing? The problem with that is that ... well, it's temporary. We'd have moved everyone there, and they'd be without the things that make them feel at home, and then in a month or two, by the time they'd begun to settle in, we'd be uprooting them again to move them into the house."

I don't see that as such a drawback, but if she does, I can let her have that one. However, I do know of another option.

"We could stay with my parents." I see the skepticism take over her features, so I add, "We've lived under one roof with them before, and we could do it again until our house is empty."

"We could, but there's a difference between them staying with us and us staying with them."

"Do tell ... how are the two different other than you aren't the boss in their home?" Now I sound sarcastic.

"It's about the house, not who's in charge of it," she says defensively, and the furrow in her brow says that I've made her angry. "A house that's ours has been outfitted with the necessities needed for young children, like safety locks on the cabinets and outlet plugs. Those things don't go with the professional decor and artwork in their home, not to mention that your mother has antiques that are highly breakable and not replaceable. It's simply that I don't think that our children should be at risk of getting into something that could harm them, and I don't think that your parents should have their home and lifestyle inconvenienced in order for us to stay with them."

The vision of one of my mother's collectibles hitting the floor and shattering into thousands of tiny shards appears in my head.

"Those are valid points," I begin in a much less harsh tone, since I now believe that I haven't been able to get past the separation aspect to give her idea true thought.

"I didn't arrive at my decision lightly. I've really given this a lot of thought, Harm," she says with an edge to her voice that suggests that she thinks that I haven't given her enough credit.

"I'm sure you did. However, even if you and I can take our emotions out of the decision, I don't know that our children can do that. Have you given any thought about which would be worse for them, having to leave their friends and change houses a couple of times or live apart from their dad?"

She lets out a tired sigh.

"Why don't children come with an SOP manual?" she asks, and I think that my last statement made an impact.

Perhaps now she'll rethink her position, and we won't have to revisit this discussion in the future.

"I don't _want_ to be away from you, either." Now her voice is soft. "I just want to do the right thing for our children, and I really think that it's best to stay here until the end of the school year.

So much for her changing her mind.

"Mac, I don't want to fight with you, especially tonight. I'm tired. Let's get some sleep. We'll talk more about it tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay," she replies before pressing her lips to mine in a more 'no hard feelings about this' gesture than a real kiss.

She pulls her lips from mine.

"I"m not angry, Mac. I know that you're trying to do the right thing for the children. However, I think that you're over thinking it. My job dictates that I move to San Diego, and my family should move with me. To me, it's that simple," I comment, summarizing why we're in this standoff.

"This is one time when we can't agree to disagree," she says with a sigh.

"I know, but I don't think clearly when I'm tired and I react to things that I shouldn't, which will blow a conversation into an argument that, as two level-headed people, we could discuss civilly, and the last thing that I want to do with you is fight."

"If fighting is the last thing that you want to do with me, what's the first?" she asks in purr as she eyes my bare chest seductively.

"Normally, that's number one on the list, but tonight, it's number two. First on my list is to cuddle with you and get some sleep."

"If you're _that_ tired, then you _do_ need to get some rest," she comments, sounding surprised that I'm not interested in sex.

Mac places a quick good night kiss on my lips and scoots in closer to me to cuddle.

The idea of us living on opposite coasts, even temporarily is ... let's just say ... less than appealing, but I refuse to think about it anymore tonight, opting to be in the moment and enjoy the feel of my wife in my arms as I drift off to sleep.


	42. Chapter 42, Part of Hearts and Flowers

**PART ONE**

**WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2009**

**HARM'S OFFICE **

**THE PENTAGON**

**1007**

**HARM'S POV**

"Yes, Mary," I say, replying to her buzz over the intercom.

"Sir, there's a Mr. Keeter on the line. Should I take a message or do you wish to take the call?"

The only Keeter I know is Jack Keeter, and the last time I spoke to him was ... around Christmas? That's almost two months ago. That can't be right!

It's funny that we now live in the same area, but I hardly ever see him. However, work and family do keep me pretty busy these days, but that isn't a good reason for me not to call him more often to touch base.

"I'll take the call, Mary. Thank you," I say politely, but I don't linger on the line and immediately cut the connection with the outer office.

After I pick up the receiver of my desk phone, I say, "Keeter, what are you up to these days?"

"Lunch ... what are you doing for lunch today?" His words come out rushed, and he sounds a little nervous.

I know that there's a lunch invitation on the horizon from the question, but I have a full day. I'm still working on the two reports that are due before I start my transition leave on March 5th, and today I've planned to leave early to meet Mac at Bethesda at 1500 for Abigail's appointment.

Abigail's first doctor's appointment was four weeks after she broke her arm. At that time, the doctor didn't believe that her arm was healed enough to remove the cast. Fearful that she won't be able to get her cast off today has Abigail feeling anxious about her appointment, so I need to be there to either share her joy over having her cast removed or comfort and reassure her that it'll come off soon if the doctor decides that the cast needs to stay on longer.

However, no matter how busy I am, when a friend, especially one of such long-standing calls, sounding as if he has something on his mind, I'd be remiss if I didn't make every effort to meet with him.

"I have a pretty full schedule, but I don't have any plans for lunch."

"Well, a man's got to eat. How about meeting me at Nedlinger's? My treat. What time's good for you?"

Looking at the pile of research books, notes and files on my desk, I reply, "I could be there at 1230, but I can't stay long. I have to be somewhere at 1500."

I intentionally don't tell him where I need to be since we haven't spoken in nearly two months, and Abigail broke her arm during that time. Saying that I have to meet Mac at the hospital would only prolong this call since I'd have to field his questions about who's sick or hurt, keeping me from getting any more work done today.

Since he called me wanting to meet, he obviously has something that he wants to discuss, so I'll fill him in on life at the Rabb house, if time permits, after he's shared the information that prompted his call today.

"I won't need your ear for that long, so 1230 at Nedlinger's. I'll wait for you at the bar," he replies anxiously.

I don't know what's on his mind, but whatever it is, he's certainly eager to get it off his chest.

"Then I'll see you at Nedlinger's," I say before ending our call.

**NEDLINGER'S RESTAURANT**

**WASHINGTON, DC**

**1230**

I did get some work done before leaving the office even though my mind did wander several times after I took Keeter's call.

When my mind drifted off the work that I was trying to finish, it went to reviewing the nightly discussions with Mac about her and the children staying behind, so I hadn't given much thought about why Keeter wants to meet with me before I entered the restaurant.

'Almost everyone gives good news over the phone,' I think, and a lump forms in my throat. What if he's asked me here to tell me that he's terminally ill?

'On second thought, Keeter's the type who'd keep that kind of information to himself,' I think as I make my way over to the bar.

Maybe he has some kind of legal problem.

That can't be it.

He said that he wasn't going to need my ear long. That doesn't make it sound like it's anything big.

There's no time to speculate about it any longer when I see my dear friend sitting at the end of the bar.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Keeter, you old sea dog. Good to see you."

He turns slightly on his stool and extends his hand.

As we shake hands, he says, "Harm, thanks for coming, especially on such short notice."

"It sounded like it was important that we talk," I respond as we release the grasp on each other's hands.

"Only a good friend would get that out of being asked to lunch." he says appreciatively.

Keeter points to a booth over in the corner just a few feet from where we are at the bar. "Let's move over there," he says before turning to pick up his glass off the bar.

It doesn't take long for us to get seated in the booth, and I look across the table with the question of 'what's prompted the need for this meeting' floating through my mind.

"I need your advice..." His words trail off.

"Don't drink your lunch," I offer jokingly as I point to the glass half full of on-tap beer that he'd brought over from the bar with him.

"Not about that, about this..." he says before reaching into his pocket and producing a small box.

"If that's what I think it is, I'm not interested. Nothing personal, but you aren't my type. Besides, I'm already married, remember?" I tease as I take note that it's the kind of box that usually contains a ring.

"Man, don't give up your day job. Your family will starve if you go into comedy," he fires back while placing the box on the table.

Keeter takes a gulp of his beer, leaving me to wonder if this impromptu lunch has to do with his ring choice, wanting pointers on how to ask Linda or what to do because he's already asked and she said no.

"Linda and I are leaving tomorrow after she gets off duty for a long weekend in Vegas. I was planning to ask her to marry me on Saturday, but as take-off time gets closer, I've started having second thoughts that maybe it's too, I don't know ... "

"Corny, cliche, cheesy..." I say with a snicker, cutting him off.

"Yes. So, you agree that I shouldn't propose on Valentine's Day?"

"That depends," I reply, and I have his undivided attention as he waits for me to elaborate. "I know that you and Linda have talked about getting married before, even though you might not have had a ring, and she's always told you that she didn't want to get married again. So, as your friend, I have to first ask, are you sure that you want to propose at all? Are you prepared for her to say no?"

"I can't say that I'm prepared for her to say no, and she may, though I don't think she will. After she held your daughter at Thanksgiving, we talked about not getting any younger and that if we were ever going to be parents, it was time. As part of that conversation, I told her that I didn't want to be just her baby's father, and she agreed that she'd prefer to be married to her child's father, and since we threw out the pills and condoms at Christmas, I don't want to wait until she's pregnant to ask her. I want to know if she feels the way about me that I do about her and not that she'll marry me because she's going to have my baby."

"What if she says no?" I ask hesitantly, hoping that, if he's given that fact consideration, he'll be prepared.

That's fighter pilot strategy: Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.

"Then I'll have been slapped in the face with the fact that she doesn't love me the way that I love her, and it'll probably be the end of the relationship."

He replies in such a way that I know that he hasn't just come to that conclusion here at this table, but that he'd given the worst case scenario serious thought before today.

"You still haven't answered my question. What do you think about me popping the question on Valentines Day?" he asks.

Satisfied that he's as ready as he's going to be, I give my answer a little thought before I respond.

"I don't know Linda very well, so I can go by only what I know, and that's that even a strong-willed, Marine-type is still a woman, and as corny or as cliched as it might be to ask her on Valentine's Day, the hearts and flowers, down on one knee bit would increase the odds that you'll get her to say yes."

He starts eyeing me curiously.

"What?" I ask, feeling uncomfortable under is scrutinizing gaze.

"Just picturing you down on one knee begging Mac to put up with you," he says before letting go of a belly-laugh.

"I didn't propose on bended knee and, unlike you, I was a catch, so there was no need for me to beg her," I retort in playful jest with my oldest friend.

We both laugh.

Though internally, for the first time, I feel a twinge of regret that I cheated Mac out of getting that type of romantic, fairy-tale kind of proposal from me.

"Do you have time to order something and eat before you have to be at your appointment?" Keeter asks, pulling me out of my moment of reflection.

I look at my watch.

"I have time to grab a bite while I tell you about the trips that I've been making to the hospital lately, the subsequent follow-up visits, where I'm going to be stationed next and Mac's crazy idea for her and the kids to stay here," I say, reaching for the menu.

"She wants to stay here! Don't tell me that there's trouble in paradise," he says with a raised eyebrow.

"No, it isn't like that." I know that I've piqued his curiosity and that I'm going to have to start with the last topic and work my way back to Abigail's arm and Mattie's surgery. "She isn't talking about a permanent arrangement. She just believes that it would be better for Ty and Abigail to stay here to finish out their school year instead of moving in March."

"It doesn't sound like she's being unreasonable, so why are you against it?" he asks.

"You mean, other than the part that I'll be living apart from my wife and children for three months?" I shoot back, stating what I think should've been obvious and sounding more irritated with the idea than I'd wanted to come across.

"Don't suppose that you got orders to Norfolk or someplace close where you could commute easily on the weekends to see them, did you?"

"No such luck. I report as the new CO of Regional Legal Services Office (RLSO), San Diego on March 16th," I answer.

"What do the kids say about moving?"

"Nothing. We haven't even told them yet. We wanted to have this wrinkle ironed out before we spoke with them," I say with some guilt about the fact that, even after telling Abigail that we should start letting them in on family issues, neither Mac nor I thought of asking their opinion on the matter, especially when it's going to impact them so greatly and directly.

"You should ask them. You may find that, to them, being where you are and close to their grandparents outweighs leaving their friends before the end of the school year."

I'm not going to risk being teased by my old friend, who remembers the bachelor that I use to be, about needing clearance from my wife on the matter, so I don't voice my first reaction, and that's that I'll have to talk to Mac tonight - away from the kids - to see if she thinks that it's a good idea to ask for their opinion on the move. Though, at the moment, I can't think of a reason why she'd object.

"I'll have to give some thought to including them in the decision," I say in response to his suggestion.

"Translation, you need to check with the wife," he comments with a smirk.

"I wouldn't be so quick to go there. If Linda says yes on Saturday, I'll give you a week before you're in the same boat, Buddy," I say with a chuckle. "Now let's order."

"Okay, but before we call over the waitress, you've got to tell me. Do I need another beer before I listen to you fill me in on why you've been spending a lot of time at the hospital?"

Knowing that things are fine now, I answer, "You won't need a beer." Then I begin to read the lunch specials.

**LIVING ROOM **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1719**

I was hoping to get a few minutes with Mac to suggest that we ask Ty and Abigail, Abby - I need time to adjust to calling her that - about moving with Daddy or waiting until they've finished the school year - but with the doctor's appointment and child pickups from daycare (Sami and Matthew) and Harriet's (Tyler and Patty) there hasn't been a moment when we've been child-free to discuss the idea.

Arriving at home, we need to start preparing dinner, so it doesn't look like I'll have a chance to speak with her until after the children are in bed.

"We should celebrate Abby being cast free," Mac says, bringing me mentally back into the room.

The thought strikes me that a need to conference over what to have for dinner may give me a few moments to mention the concept of allowing the children to have a voice in when they move. That way, even if she wants to have time to think about it, perhaps I'll have her approval in time to ask them before they go to bed.

"Great idea!" I say, apparently a little too enthusiastically because I get a questioning look from Mac.

"Pizza," Ty and Abby say in unison while eyeing me as if I must have lost my mind.

"I'm glad the two of you agree," Mac says pleased, probably because she doesn't have to 'rule' that, because we're celebrating something that happened to Abby, her choice wins.

"I'll go place our order," Mac says as she lays a sleeping Patty down in her bassinet.

With her task complete, Mac looks at me as she walks towards me. "I'll have them deliver it so that neither of us has to leave the house again."

"I think there are coupons in the kitchen," I say as she reaches for the phone.

"I always forget them. I guess I'll call from the kitchen after I check to see if there are any coupons that we can use on our order," she responds.

"I'll come with you to figure out what you need to order to please everyone."

"That isn't necessary. I could make this group's order in my sleep: one half cheese, half pepperoni for the kids and a half veggie, half supreme for you and me," she says over her shoulder as she leaves the room.

"Is that going to be enough to feed everyone?" I question, following after her.

I'm sure that she wonders why I want to be so involved with a task that not only is she perfectly capable of doing without me but has done before without my assistance.

Stopping, I look back towards the children. "Ty, keep an eye on Matthew, please," I add before trying to catch up with my wife.

Harm is out of the room when Abigail asks Ty, "What's wrong with Daddy? He's acting weird."

Ty had noticed that Dad had been acting weird for the last few days, and he'd been wondering the same thing.

"I don't know," Ty answers with a shrug.

**KITCHEN**

**MOMENTS LATER**

I enter the kitchen to find that Mac already has the handset at her ear and is holding the sheet of coupons in her hand.

Giving up on the idea that this was my opportunity to talk to Mac before she and I turn in for the night, I start to retreat from the room.

**MAC'S POV**

I sense his presence in the room and know that he's behind me. What I don't know is why he followed me in here.

Listening to music made famous in elevators across the nation, I'm waiting for an operator to pick up to place my order.

"I'm on hold," I say, turning around to face him, but his back is to me. He must have already been leaving the room. "Did you follow me in here to tell me that you wanted to mix it up tonight and that I should order a meat lovers pizza for us to share?"

"No," he says, turning around to look at me.

I eye him curiously, waiting for him to share whatever's on his mind.

"Mac," he begins, but I can see in his eyes that he's struggling with whether to continue.

"Harm, you've been behaving strangely all afternoon. Abigail got her cast off today, which means that you can't be worried about that now. So before someone picks up so that I can place our order, what's caused you to be so preoccupied today?"

"I had lunch with Keeter today," he says while his eyes dart about the room.

"That's nice. You two talk about anything that I should know?"

"Not really," he replies, but I get the impression that it isn't a completely truthful answer.

"Then did something _happen_ at lunch that you want to tell me?" I ask, knowing that, with Keeter, it could be an interesting story that he has to tell.

"Yes and no," Harm replies.

I'm conjuring up Harm having had lunch at a men's entertainment club and that he wants to tell me that, if I find glitter on his uniform when I'm preparing the bag to go to the cleaners, it's all innocent because a stripper named Sparkles is the culprit via a lap dance that Keeter had arranged for him.

Then he continues, "Nothing about the lunch is worth mentioning, but while I was eating, I got an idea of a way that we might be able to break the stalemate that we're in over moving."

"...And that would be?" I prompt, though I thought that we'd settled this two nights ago.

"We ask them," he states, pointing back over his shoulder towards the living room with a hitchhiker's thumb in the air. "Just a couple of weeks ago, we told Abigail that she was getting old enough that she should be informed of some kinds of family concerns, and Ty is older. They should have a say in this decision," Harm says, finally looking me in the eye.

"That might be a good idea if we thought that it would resolve anything. However, since Abigail dislikes changes in her routine, she'll want to stay, and since Ty admires both his dad and his grandpa so much, he'll want to go. So, instead of a one to one vote, there'll be a two to two tie."

"We could compromise. I could take a couple of the kids with me and you could keep the rest with you."

I pin him with a glare.

**HARM'S POV**

If looks could kill, I'd be dead right now, making it obvious that, if that hadn't been an off-the-cuff suggestion, I'd have to pretend that it was in order to get out of the kitchen alive - though I have to wonder why it's okay that I live away from _all _of my children, but the idea of her being separated from even part of them is so completely out of the question that the suggestion gets me a death stare.

"Well, since we did recently tell Abigail that she's old enough to be included in some family concerns, we _should_ ask their opinion, especially about something like this that directly impacts their lives," Mac concedes.

"They may need time to give it some thought, so after you've placed our order, we should talk to them to see what they say while we wait for the pizza to arrive."

"Maybe we should wait until after they eat. I wouldn't want the subject matter to ruin their appetites," Mac comments.

"Okay..." I agree. Then pointing my index finger in her direction, I add, "...but as soon as they've eaten, we talk to them."

"Yes," Mac gets out. Then she says, "Delivery," and I know that an operator has finally picked up, so I leave the room to check on how our children are getting along in the living room while she places our order.

**LIVING ROOM**

**DURING BEDTIME ROUTINE**

Not wanting to exclude Sami, yet wanting to get through the conversation without all the extra questions that a four-year-old is sure to have, Mac and I agreed that immediately after dinner wasn't a good time. Instead, we waited until Sami had had her bath and was put to bed to wait for story time.

Mac and I then enter the living room to speak with Ty and Abby.

"May I take a bubble bath tonight?" Abby asks, assuming that we've come in here to tell her that it's her turn in the bathtub.

"You may, but first we want to talk to you and your brother about something," Mac replies while motioning for Ty to join Abby on the couch.

In order to be closer to their eye level, Mac and I sit down on the coffee table in front of them.

There's distress in his voice when Ty asks, "Dad, where are we moving?"

I'm a little taken aback that he's zeroed in on the topic of our conference so quickly without us having yet said a word about what we wish to discuss with them.

"I've actually got good news there. My orders are for San Diego -"

"San Diego!" Sami exclaims excitedly, cutting me off.

"Yes!" I say, trying to match her level of enthusiasm but falling short as I look towards the hall doorway where she's standing.

"Ya-a-a-y!" Sami cheers.

"Aren't you suppose to be in bed, Samantha?" I ask in a scolding tone.

"You were taking too long, and I can't sleep before you read to me," she replies with a 'don't be mad, I'm cute' smile.

"I'll be in there to read to you after Momma and I talk to your sister and brother. Go back to your room and get into bed," I say firmly, wanting to get back to the discussion that we'd sat down here to have with Ty and Abby.

Reluctantly, Sami starts to her room without any further pressing from me, but she's certainly taking her time.

"Double time, Samantha," Mac orders, causing Sami to pick up her pace, though I'm sure as soon as she's down the hall a few steps and out of our visual range, she's back to dragging her feet and taking her time to get back to her room.

With my attention focused back on Ty and Abby, I say, "I think that we can all agree that living in our house near your grandparents is good news, but we do have a problem with the move that we'd like to talk to you about tonight."

"Do the people who are living in our house not want to give it back to us?" Abigail asks.

How do you explain lease agreements to an eight-year-old, especially when you didn't anticipate the question and aren't prepared with an answer in simple terms with which to explain the concept?

"We can't move in right away. Not because they want to keep our house, but because we have to be polite and let them have time to find a new place. They also have to move out their stuff before we can move our stuff in, and how long they're going to need is a detail that has to be worked out by your dad and me with them. However, there is one detail that we want your opinion on before we make a decision," Mac says, addressing Abigail's question and quickly moving us to the main point of us speaking with them.

"We need to know if you'd like to move with Daddy or wait and move later," I jump in to explain.

"What Daddy means..." I can only assume that Mac doesn't think that what I said was clear enough by the way she's begun. "...is that he has his orders that tell him where to go and when he has to be there, and we can't change that part. However, since it's so close to the end of the school year, we'd like to hear what you'd think about Daddy going on to San Diego without us. Then, once you're out of school for the summer, we'd move to live with Daddy in our house there," Mac explains.

"We understand that you might need time to think about it, but we need to know what you'd prefer to do: stay here for a little while or go when I do, and we need to know soon because we don't have a lot of time to make arrangements if we're going to be moving the whole family in a few weeks." I hope that Mac feels that I was clear this time.

"I want to stay here," Ty says flatly, folding his arms.

That wasn't the response that we thought we'd get from him.

"I want to go with Daddy," Abby answers.

That wasn't the vote that we'd expected from her, either.

"Then, with a tie vote, Momma and I will have to talk about it and choose what we think is best for the whole family," I state, feeling baffled by the outcome of our little meeting. "We'll let you know soon what we've decided."

"For now, let's get you into that bubble bath, Abby," Mac says, getting to her feet.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2219**

**MAC'S POV**

Entering our bedroom after my usual final bedtime check, my thoughts are on the meeting that we had with the children. It didn't go the way that I thought it would, but the outcome was the same: a split decision.

"Did you talk to Ty about why he didn't want to leave for California when you do?" I ask as I begin to untie my robe.

"I did. He said that he didn't want to be this close to the end of school and have to finish somewhere else."

"You think there's more to it than that though, don't you?" I inquire curiously.

"Yes."

**HARM'S POV**

Eyeing me with a discerning expression on her face, she asks, "You know what it is, too, don't you?"

Since he didn't ask me to keep it a secret, I'm going only on the way that I remember feeling at that age and I doubt that Ty really wants his mother to know why he wants to stay here.

"Yes, and I'd tell you, but I don't know if you have clearance," I answer truthfully.

Mac puts a fist against her hip. "I'm his mother!" she says with authority as if that's the highest attainable security level.

"Let's just say that Abigail isn't the only child we have who's growing up," I add, keeping it vague but hoping that the added information will be enough to appease her.

"Your answer is unsatisfactory," she begins as her hand falls away from her hip. "If he's going to be here for three months without you, I need to know if he's going through something," she states firmly but with concern about our son.

"Counting Ty and Abby's votes, it's tied up two to two, so who's saying that he'll be here?" I question.

She's pinning me with another death glare, so I decide to abandon that topic for_ now_.

"If you promise to keep it to yourself because Ty might find it embarrassing for his mother to know, I'll tell you."

"I'm a lawyer, too, remember? I can keep a confidence."

"So I have your word that you won't mention what you know to him or what I tell you to anyone?" I ask to be sure that I have a clear-cut promise.

"I promise that I won't tell a soul."

"He's started to realize that his mother isn't the only cool girl around."

"He's too young to have a girlfriend!"

"I think calling her a 'girlfriend' would be pushing it. However, he'll be ten next month, so I'd say that he's about the right age to have his first crush."

"I'm not ready for this," Mac says, now sounding a little flustered.

"Not that I'm sure that I want to question it since she's on team dad, but did you ask Abigail why she doesn't want to stay?" I ask out of curiosity as well as to take Mac's mind off of our son growing up.

"Her answer was a lot less traumatic for me than finding out that my son has discovered girls," Mac says with a sigh.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," I tell her with a chuckle.

"We'll see if you're in such a good mood when Abigail has her first boyfriend," Mac counters, wiping the smirk right off my face at the thought.

That reminds me, I haven't cleaned my gun in awhile...

"What was her reason?" I inquire hastily, needing to get my mind off the idea of my little girl being old enough to like boys.

"It doesn't snow in San Diego."

I look at her quizzically.

"She won't be slipping on any ice and breaking her arm again and, of course, there _is_ the bonus of living near Grandma and Grandpa," Mac explains.

"Of course, that is a plus..." I say, slipping my arms around Mac. "...or is it?" I ask. Quickly supplying her with an explanation, I continue, "At lunch today, when I told Keeter about my orders, he brought up that my parents should be thrilled. That got me to thinking that being near them might be the reason why you want to put off moving to San Diego."

"Why would you think something like that? I love your parents."

"Well, it occurred to me that my parents spent a lot of time with us recently, and it may seem like you just got them out of your hair. Then, just like that, they're back under foot, particularly my mother."

"Why did you single out your mother? Did she say something to you about me or the way that I'm raising our children?

"No! She thinks that you're wonderful. It's just that when she heard about Mattie's surgery, she didn't ask if we wanted or needed her to stay. She just -"

"She was a little uncharacteristically presumptuous, but perhaps with good reason. She'd been taking care of all of us for longer than anyone had expected her to be at that point, and she was just in that caretaker mode and wanted to be sure that Mattie was going to be okay and that you and I were free to focus on Mattie's health. Her heart was in the right place, so I can't be upset with her about that," Mac says, cutting me off.

"Just so it's out there. If she's offended you or if her presence here has anything to do with your interest in not moving to San Diego for a while, I want you to know that I can understand that so I could be behind a plan that had you staying here until the current tenants are out of our house. However, after that, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of going longer than that without seeing you or my children since, unlike here where we were all under one roof, it'll be different there because she'll have her house and you'll have yours."

"Harm..." she begins. looking up into my eyes. "...I mentioned that I thought that it was best for the children if we stayed here before we knew where you'd be stationed, so that should reassure you that your mother has nothing to do with my choice. I simply think that it would be better for our children to finish out the school year here."

She brushes her lips over mine as if to reassure me that her decision is purely a practical one.

"I could ask my grandmother to stay longer ... or I could take Abigail and Sami with me. A little quality time with my daughters and less work for you." I say the latter with a hint of lightheartedness because, the last time I brought up taking some of the children with me, the idea didn't go over very well.

"Ty and Abby are pretty self-sufficient when it comes to most things. Sami is getting better at cleaning up after herself without having to be told multiple times, and with Patty having been sleeping through the night for the last eight days, I'm getting a full night's sleep. So let your grandmother go home as planned. I'll be fine."

"I know you will. You're a Marine," I say with a sly smile because she didn't address sharing the children directly.

I'm rewarded with a prideful smile.

"I could take Sami and Matthew instead ..."

"Stop it!" she says, slapping my arm. "They're all staying with me. Besides, you're going to be too busy to care for children."

"Too busy doing what?" I ask.

"First, you'll be busy assessing your attorneys and squaring away your command. Then, once the tenants move out of our house, you'll have your job and, 'Mister I like to do everything myself', it's going to need a fresh coat of paint inside, and who knows what might need fixing -"

Before my honey-do list gets any longer, I press my lips to hers and begin to administer a kiss that will leave her unable to think clearly and put her in the mood for making love - a reminder of one of the things that _she'll_ miss if we're living apart.


	43. Chapter 43, Part 2 of Hearts and Flowers

**PART TWO**

**SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2009**

**KITCHEN**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0700**

**HARM'S POV**

My grandmother was the first one up as usual, and I find her sitting at the kitchen table taking a sip of what must be her piping-hot first cup of coffee.

The moment she sees me, she lowers the cup from her lips, and I'm greeted with the biggest smile that I've seen on her face in quite some time.

"The card is beautiful," she comments, referring to the Valentine's Day card that she must have opened that the whole family had signed last weekend.

Mac had waited until everyone else was in bed before placing the houseplant - a gift from the family - with a card leaning against the front of it right next to the coffee machine. Mac had been meticulous about the angle of the card, saying that it had to be leaning just right - supported by the houseplant so that it wouldn't fall over, yet tilted in a way that she'd see 'Gee Gee' - the name that the children call her - on the outside and know that it was for her.

"Just wanted to make sure that you hadn't forgotten that we love you," I say, shrugging my shoulders, a sign that I'm still not completely comfortable with expressing my feelings, although, thanks to my children who need to hear it from their dad, I am getting better at it.

"The plant is just lovely. I can take it to the farm with me," she says appreciatively.

"I can't take credit for that. The kids and Mac thought of it," I confess, not going into the details that the kids wanted to get her flowers, but that Mac had thought that a houseplant would last longer. "They wanted you to have something that would remind you of them every time you looked at it."

"It will, and I already have a place in mind to put it so that I can see it everyday. I'm going to miss you all ... so much." She started out strong, but ended in a teary voice.

"We're going to miss you, too," I say, hugging her shoulders as she sits at the table, dabbing the tears from her eyes with a napkin.

There's a moment of silence as she regains her composure before she speaks again.

"I wasn't expecting you to be out of your room this early. I thought that you'd have started celebrating Valentine's Day with your wife this morning," she says with an impish grin, making the implication of her statement clear.

"I thought that a mother of six would prefer to sleep in rather than celebrate," I reply flatly, not confirming or denying that I understood what she was implying. "However, I do have plans for her today. If you remember, I asked you to babysit while I take Mac out after breakfast, and then again later when I take her to dinner. You can still do it, right?" Given what she was inferring moments ago, I feel a little blush come into my cheeks and quickly add, "Babysit, I mean."

"Oh, yes, I remember, and I still can," she says with a lilt in her voice that makes me wonder if she's commenting about babysitting or the lovemaking that was implied earlier in our conversation, and the pause, though brief before she speaks again, doesn't help keep my mind from going there. "Dinner is very traditional, but where are you taking her this afternoon ... romantic lunch ... hotel that charges by the hour, maybe?"

I roll my eyes and say, "Grandma!"

If the question had come from someone else of her years, I might find it comforting to know that Mac and I should be able to have an intimate relationship for a long time to come, but the fact that she's my grandmother and shouldn't know about stuff like hourly-rate motels, I find embarrassing and not comforting at all.

"I can't tell. I don't want to spoil the surprise. I will tell you that it may not be the average woman's idea of fun, but I think that my wife will have a blast," I say with a smile as I get to the last word, a pun that wasn't intentional but appropriate.

"What's for breakfast, Dad?" Ty asks, entering the kitchen.

"Pancakes," I reply.

"Then, Ty, why don't you and I set the table and let your dad get those pancakes started?" my grandmother asks.

"Let me get the syrup first so we don't forget to put it on the table this time. Okay, Gee Gee?" Ty responds.

"Okay," my grandmother answers.

"You were first in the kitchen, Ty, so the first pancakes off the griddle are yours," I inform him as he reaches in the pantry for the maple syrup.

**MINUTES LATER**

I serve up two heart-shaped pancakes on a plate and present them to Ty, who rolls his eyes and says, "Thanks for breakfast, Dad."

I wonder if the reaction to my holiday-themed pancakes has to do with the lack of interest in general that boys/guys have concerning the day about hearts and flowers or if it's a sign that something's gone awry with his first crush.

We're the only two in the kitchen at the moment, so I ask very softly in case someone comes in, "How did the card exchange go yesterday at school? Did you get one from the girl you like?"

"I got some, but not one from her. It's okay because I decided to give my special card to someone I love a whole bunch, not just like."

I'm glad that I'm letting Mac sleep in as part of her Valentine's Day. She wouldn't be much in the mood to celebrate with me or have an appetite if she heard our son talk about love when speaking about girls.

I don't ask Ty any more questions because I see Abigail coming into the kitchen for her plate.

"Gee Gee said that we're having pancakes," she says.

'Mac has to be wrong!' I think. Abigail is standing in the kitchen wearing her Disney Princesses night gown, and I find it hard to believe that she'll ever be old enough to like boys.

I hand Abby her plate, and when she looks at the heart-shaped pancakes, she offers me a big smile.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Abby," I begin before bending over to be closer to her height. "Daddy loves you bunches."

"I love you, too, Daddy," she says with a shy smile before she rewards me with a kiss on the cheek.

Mattie comes in yawning with her robe cinched at her waist. "I need pancakes for two."

I get a lump in my throat and stammer out, "For two?"

"Yes, Matt was awake when I went by the nursery, so I picked him up on my way ... and since Gee Gee was in the dining room to keep an eye on him, I left him in his high chair and came in for his breakfast and mine."

"Two plates of cakes coming up," I say, relieved that not only is she not pregnant, but that she's apparently not fully awake and didn't realize what I thought because I didn't get any odd looks or comments about my reaction.

I blame the fact that Mac and I were talking recently about our children growing up and becoming involved with the opposite sex for me jumping to the wrong conclusion from Mattie's statement - although, the sexual innuendo in my grandmother's comments this morning probably didn't help.

"Have trouble sleeping last night, Mattie?" I ask while flipping the pancakes on the griddle to brown the other side.

"Not once I got to sleep. I stayed up late talking to Kevin on the phone."

"He drove you and Gee Gee home yesterday and stayed for dinner. What could've possibly happened from the time he left here that kept you up talking half the night?"

"Nothing happened. He just called to say good night, and I asked about how his mom was doing, and then ... I don't know ... we just talked for like three hours about stuff."

"Things are going well for the two of you again, then?" I say like a question as I remove the finished heart-shaped pancakes from the griddle.

Picking up the squeeze bottle, my secret for making shaped pancakes, I apply batter to the griddle for two more pancakes as I wait for her response.

"Yes, things are good. Very good, actually," she says as she pulls a plate with hot pancakes close to her.

She moves to cut up the pancakes so they'll cool faster and be ready for Matt to eat and exclaims, "Oh, oh, my god, heart-shaped pancakes! It's Valentine's Day, isn't it? I knew that it was coming up, but I didn't realize that it was today. I've got to call Kevin. I can't go to dinner with him tonight."

"Why?" I ask curiously as I watch her sprint from the counter where she was cutting Matt's pancakes to the wall for the phone.

"I don't want to be the only non-couple in a sea of twosomes making toasts to love and making out because they think that Valentine's Day gives them a free pass to make public displays of affection."

She said that like she was offended, but my theory is that she feels that way this year only because she doesn't have a boyfriend.

I continue to make pancakes while I listen to her tell Kevin that she wants to cancel on him.

"Kevin, it's Mattie." ... "I called because I can't go out tonight." ... "No, I'm fine. I just didn't realize that_ today _was Valentine's Day, and I need to stay here to help Gee Gee babysit while my parents go out."

"You don't have to stay home. The day that I have planned is in two parts. We'll be home in between to check to make sure that everything is going smoothly," I volunteer, which is both good - shows that I'm not counting on her to help - and bad, because now she knows that I'm eavesdropping on her conversation.

"It's been two weeks. I can drive again!" she announces, looking directly at me and having lowered the handset from her ear so I'm confident that she's speaking to me.

I know that she was thrilled to come home this weekend, in part because she was going to be able to drive herself back to school and would no longer have to rely on the kindness of friends and public transportation to get around, but I don't see what that has to do with this particular conversation.

The look on my face must convey 'I don't understand what that has to do with this' because she looks at me as only a daughter would with that 'duh, Dad, you're so dense look' and speaks directly to me again to clear things up.

Lowering the handset even farther and pressing it into her robe - apparently she doesn't want Kevin to hear our conversation - she explains, "There's no reason why you have to split up your date with Mom. I can drive Abigail to her piano lesson and run errands for you ... whatever you were planning on coming back to the house to do. You and Mom deserve time for yourselves."

"Thank you, but Mac is going to want to come home to change for dinner anyway, so coming back to the house isn't a problem. There's no reason to change your plans," I say, touched by the sentiment in her act of generosity, though I'm sure that getting behind the wheel again has something to do with her helpfulness.

She acknowledges me with a nod of her head, but her words as she turns her attention back to Kevin doesn't show that she understands what I said to her.

"Yeah, Kevin, I really need to stay here and help out so that my parents can go without needing to come back to check on Gee Gee and the kids." ... "We've been seeing a lot of each other lately, so I don't understand what the big deal is. We can go out next Saturday."

I know that I can hear only Mattie's side of their conversation, but I've gotten the impression that Kevin isn't taking the news that he's going to be dateless on Valentine's Day very well, though I'm a little unsure why since Mattie hasn't mentioned them being a couple. In fact, I've heard just the opposite. She's been pretty clear that they're just friends.

Risking life and limb by letting her know that I'm still listening, I offer, "Just a thought ... I'm sure that Gee Gee wouldn't mind _two_ extra sets of hands. Maybe Kevin could come over here and hang out. I'll even spring for pizza for dinner," I suggest over my shoulder while flipping pancakes.

"Did you hear my dad?" ... "He said that you could come over and hang out with me and Gee Gee tonight instead, and he'd pay for us to order pizza for dinner."

It probably isn't the night that Kevin had planned, but since Mattie hasn't mentioned that they're anything other than friends, if he wants to be with someone while his mother is out on a date with the guy who Kevin told me about, I see no reason why he can't hang out here. Better yet, if Kevin is interested in making a move on my oldest daughter, my grandmother will be here to chaperone while I'm out romancing her mom.

I didn't realize that I'd quit listening to their conversation until I feel myself being squeezed from the side. "Thanks," Mattie says as she releases her hold on me.

"No problem. It isn't a glamour date, but he'll get to see you. That should've made him feel better."

"We aren't dating, Dad," she says with a sigh. "Speaking of dates, where's your Valentine?"

"I'm letting her sleep in," I inform her.

"If you really want to treat her for breakfast, you should make bacon to go with these pancakes," Mattie says as she picks up two plates, Matthew's and hers, and heads off to the dining room.

Mattie doesn't think that I thought of that, but I did. However, I figure that Mac will order steak tonight, and I refuse to help clog her arteries by being a party to her having meat twice in the same day.

"Daddy..."

Not that I need to see who it is because I'd know the sound of that 'daddy' anywhere, I look up from my griddle to see Sami in her footed-pajamas, rubbing her sleepy eyes with her fists.

"Good morning, Ladybug. Your pancakes are ready, but if you wait until these are done..." I say, pointing to the regular shaped ones cooking on the griddle. "...Daddy will be ready to eat, too, and we can go into the dining room together."

"I wait then," she responds before asking, "Where's Mommy?"

"Today is Valentine's Day, so to let Mommy know that we love her, we're letting her sleep longer than everyone else this morning."

"But she'll miss breakfast, and you make the bestest pancakes," she says, sounding a little distressed.

"She won't miss breakfast. When we've finished eating, if she's still asleep, I'll make her hot pancakes, and we'll take breakfast to her. Then, once she's awake, you can give her the card that you made for her at daycare."

"Okay," Sami says agreeably.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**SAME TIME**

**MAC'S POV**

Waking, I feel the morning light warming my face and I begin to stretch, but my hand makes contact with nothing but air.

After a quick check of my internal clock, a smile begins to spread across my face. My husband has let me sleep in. He's so thoughtful.

However, it somehow seems fair since he was the cause of me not going to sleep as soon as I got into bed last night. Of course, with Patty now going to sleep around 2100 and staying asleep for between eight and ten hours, even if, like last night, he and I make love before going to sleep, I wake feeling refreshed and rested.

My stomach growls, and I open my eyes only to be further convinced that I married the perfect man when I see roses on my dresser with a card resting against the vase.

I throw back the covers to get out of bed, and my eye catches sight of something unfamiliar on my night table.

I reach for the folded piece of colored paper and unfold it to see the writing of a less mature hand than Harm's.

The words printed among the hand-drawn hearts and flowers say: 'To the girl I love most. My mom. Love, Ty'

'Simple and to the point,' I think as his words bring tears of happiness to my eyes.

Thrilled that I have a reprieve - however temporary - from my little boy growing up, I get up and walk to the dresser to confirm that my husband is the one who left the flowers and card there.

After inhaling their heady scent, I pick up the pastel pink envelope from it's resting place, lift the flap and pull the card from it's sheath. The printed hearts and flowers on the outside of the store-bought card are a sharp contrast to the hand-drawn ones on the first Valentine's card that I read today.

Opening the card, I see that there's a handwritten note on the left side with a printed message on the right.

I read the printed side first.

It's a love poem, one that's touchingly romantic and doesn't rhyme.

It's strange how I never would've noticed the latter before I had children.

From just a glance at the handwriting on the inside when I opened the card, I knew that it was from Harm.

Mac,

This is a day set aside to tell the woman in your life that she's loved, yet I love you far more than I could express in a single day.

I hope you'll agree to be my date for today and my Valentine for life.

Harm

So few words, yet they say so much.

If only he'd given me one card like this in the nine years ... no point in thinking about that now. I have him.

Besides, you love the life you have, and if things hadn't happened the way they did, this wouldn't be your life, so count your blessings, MacKenzie, and embrace the fact that you have love in your life now, I admonish myself.

To refocus on the meaning of the day, I look back at the printed side and read the poem again, this time picturing Harm standing in the card shop reading each card until he finds this one.

Then I go into the bathroom to wash my face and put on my robe before going to join my family for breakfast.

**DINING ROOM**

**MINUTES LATER**

**HARM'S POV**

I sense her presence and look up as she enters the dining room.

The adoring look in her eyes as they meet mine tells me that she saw the vase of roses and card that I placed on her dresser this morning.

"Looks like I didn't eat fast enough to serve Momma breakfast in bed," I say, standing to greet her.

"Happy Balentine's Day, Mommy," Sami says smiling from ear-to-ear before shoving an oversized bite of pancake into her mouth.

"Thank you, Sami. Same to you," Mac replies before I reach her.

I wrap my arms around Mac, pull her in close to me and press my lips to hers.

The kiss is barely a touching of our lips to show my love and affection for her without being too overt in front of our children.

"I love you," I whisper near her ear before releasing my hold on her.

"Happy Valentine's Day to all of you," Mac says while catching my hand with hers.

Grasping her hand gently, I say, "I'll be right back."

Mac looks at me like I'm rushing off when she just got here, so I add, "I'm going to start your pancakes."

Mac offers me a warm smile.

"Are you going to make Momma's shaped like hearts, too?" Abigail asks softly.

"I sure am ... big ones because she's my number one Valentine," I reply, winking at Mac.

"She's first because you've known her longer, right?" Sami asks.

"I guess you could look at it that way, but I say that she's number one because, if she hadn't been first, then I wouldn't have all of you," I reply.

After a moment of quiet reflection as I look appreciatively at my family gathered around the table eating breakfast, I ask, "While I'm in the kitchen, anyone want seconds?"

"I do!" I hear from Sami, followed, by a "yes, please" from Tyler.

"I'll have them up in a few minutes," I say before lifting Mac's hand to my lips and placing a kiss on the back of it.

Stepping away from Mac to go into the kitchen, I hear Sami announce excitedly, "We made cards for you!"

With my back to the table as I leave the room, my guess is that my words will be too late to stop Sami, who's already bolted from the table to go retrieve the card that she made for Mac, but I say it any way, "Cards and presents can wait until after breakfast."

"Presents? There are presents?" I hear Mac question with surprise as I leave the dining room.

The idea of her seeing the presents brings a smile to my face. Most of her gifts are pictures that the kids made at school or daycare for her that I know that she'll display proudly - it is indeed the thought that counts - because her children gave them to her out of love.

Mac had shown some jealousy when I got not one but two #1 Dad mugs at Christmas. So when I took the children shopping, I suggested they get her a #1 Mom mug. However, she'll receive a second mug as well because I picked out a #1 Wife mug - which I decided was a safe generic one to give a retired Marine instead of the one that read '#1 Navy Wife'.

I chuckle to myself as I picture the look that she'd have had on her face if I'd purchased anything that said Navy on it. Then I wonder if she'll consider the activities that I have planned enough of a date to be a good Valentine's Day as I enter the kitchen to get started on those pancakes.

**STARBUCKS**

**QUANTICO, VA**

**1215**

**MAC'S POV**

As we sit at a corner table, relaxing and drinking warm beverages, I ask, "What made you decide to take me to the shooting range as part of our date?" I tried to sound just curious, but the second the words left my mouth, I realized that my tone didn't cover up the enjoyment that I'd received from it.

"I know that you miss the courtroom, and it stood to reason that you miss being a Marine as well. So, when I heard that there were a handful of Marines who'd failed their pistol qualifications and that their drill sergeant was going to have them on the range today to put them through their paces before letting them try to qualify again, I thought that you might like to join your little green friends and fire a few rounds," Harm explains.

His answer is acceptable since I didn't really expect him to confess to having used his rank or the office of the SecNav to score an invitation for us.

"You know what they say: There's nothing like the smell of gunpowder in the morning," I say, quoting a former drill sergeant of mine. "There must be more to it because there'd be no reason for you to "hear about it" otherwise. However, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm just going to say thank you because I really did enjoy it."

"I'm glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself because I did have second thoughts about it being a good way to start a date. However, the moment I saw the look on your face when you saw your grouping ... and the look on those Marines' faces, who you made look so bad, it was priceless," he says as he starts to laugh.

"None of them did well, but when I saw that the gunny didn't hit the target even once, I thought that you'd instructed them to hold back because I was out of practice, and you didn't want me to feel badly if I didn't do as well as I used to when I was active duty," I comment.

"I wouldn't do that!" he says defensively.

"Harm, he's a gunnery sergeant. He couldn't possibly be that bad," I say, wanting to believe him but finding it difficult.

"He didn't pass his qualifications so he's definitely off his game. However, I don't think he's that bad. I think that shooting next to you made him nervous," he explains.

"I'm not a Marine any longer. I have no power over him. Why would I make him nervous?" I ask.

"Mac, you're kidding me, right?" Harm asks.

"No," I reply, genuinely unaware of what he means.

"Mac, in all the years that I've been in the Navy and of all the Marines who I've met during my time in, I've never, and I mean never seen a Marine who looks as beautiful as you, and when you add your looks to the fact that you can handle a gun, too, you could definitely make it hard for a guy to concentrate on his target."

"I never seemed to throw you off," I comment teasingly.

"Yes, you did. It's just that you saw me only off balance, so you had no normal point of reference and didn't realize that I was any different when you weren't around."

"You were always calm, cool and in control around me, so I don't see how you can say that I distracted or threw you off." I say, not believing that a man who I could 'throw off balance' the way he's claiming would keep his distance from me for nine years.

"I may be exaggerating a little..." he says, holding up his index finger and thumb, indicating very little. "...but the fact that you were a beautiful woman who was a Marine did throw me for a loop. The way you held a gun on me right after we met ... to take me to your uncle ... your firm grip and controlled stance ... I had no doubt that you knew how to use it. It was like you were two different people ... this tough as nails Marine and a beautiful woman."

"Are you saying that you were afraid to talk to me?"

"I wouldn't say afraid. I'd say cautious. I had to be. How did I know for sure that, if I talked to the woman, the Marine wouldn't shoot me or, if I talked to the Marine, the woman wouldn't shoot me?" he says jokingly.

"I think you're being silly. I'm not one or the other. I'm both. The same way that you're not just a naval officer, but a man, as well."

"I think you're taking my comment too literally. You were just different from any other woman whom I'd ever known and against the 'type' that I thought I wanted, yet I felt drawn to you from the moment we met," he explains.

He reaches out and takes my hand and, as our hands rest clasped together on the table, he looks into my eyes and says, "I'm sorry that I deprived you of the memories of getting here the right way," he says remorsefully.

"The right way?" I question, puzzled by his apology.

"You and I don't have any history."

I look at him, my eyes expressing that I disagree and believe that we most definitely have a history.

"We knew each other for nine years. Of course there's a history between us. I meant that there's no 'couple' history. We, as you've pointed out before, didn't date," he says, elaborating for me. "I'm sorry about that," he adds sincerely.

Getting a sense from him that he needs to hear it, I say, "I forgive you."

He squeezes my hand, and a smile starts to replace the seriousness that his features had taken on during the last few moments of our conversation.

"When we started having date nights in California, I thought that I could make up for some of that, but since we've been here, something always seems to be more important, and there doesn't seem to be any time for us to go out," he says remorsefully, and I start to get a better understanding of why this "date" today is so important to him.

"I hate to say it, but speaking of time, we should get going. We have a daughter to get to a piano lesson."

"Not today...thanks to Mattie. She volunteered to take Abby to her lesson so that we wouldn't have to rush our date," he says.

"That's sweet." I comment, touched by the gesture.

"Sweet ... or excited that she can drive again, I can't be sure, but either way, to spend time with my Valentine, I'll take it." He sounds less remorseful and more upbeat now.

"This is where I'd suggest that we take a walk, but it's forty-seven degrees outside. So, is there someplace that you'd like to go or something that you'd like to do before we need to head to the house to change for dinner?"

"Actually, there is. The first Valentine that I got this morning was from someone unexpected, and I think that I've thought of something that I could give him that wouldn't embarrass him by being all hearts and flowers girlie, but he'd know that I love him, too."

"You don't have to get me anything," he says with his ego-inflated flyboy smile.

"It isn't for you. Yours wasn't the first Valentine that I read this morning."

His jaw drops open in shock.

Then he asks, trying to be cool, but the hint of jealousy is easily heard, "Who was it from?"

I only smile.

"Hey, a guy has a right to know who his competition is," he adds.

I laugh.

"You don't have any competition. The card was from Tyler."

Harm's posture changes now that he knows that he doesn't have to compete for my heart.

My smile is now internal, having taken some small measure of pleasure in seeing Harm's reaction.

"He must have gone into our room after I went to the kitchen and started to prepare breakfast because, before then, only the card and flowers that I left for you were in our room," Harm comments distractedly, but I think that he's appreciative of his son's understated style.

"I know that we talked about not getting the children something for every little holiday and agreed to give them gifts on their birthdays and at Christmas, but this year... I can't explain it, but I think that I need to give him something."

"It's funny that you should say that because I'd been thinking that I'd like to give Abigail something this year because of the way that she's been feeling, but I didn't want to risk alienating Sami by not getting her something. However, if I bought both girls something, I didn't want Ty to feel left out."

"We can decide on the way if it's best if we give the gifts from us or if daddy's girls get something from their dad and Tyler gets something from Mom."

"Our dinner reservations are for 1930, so make sure that we don't spend too long shopping and have time to go home and change and make it to the restaurant on time because I was told that tonight is their busiest night of the year and if we're late, we'll lose our reservations. They're too busy to accommodate changes tonight," he informs me.

"Then let's go," I say, getting to my feet, happy that I chose a cappuccino to warm up. The boost of caffeine will be come in handy for shopping.

**RABB RENTAL HOME  
MANASSAS, VA**

**1717**

**HARM'S POV**

Shopping was a success, and by the time we returned home, Mac had purchased an ID bracelet and had it engraved with Tyler's name on the front and the motto "Semper Fi" engraved into the stainless steel back.

The ID bracelet seemed like a good idea, so, for Abigail, though I considered one made out of silver, in the end, I went with stainless steel because I wanted her to have something that she could wear every day, unlike the gold cross necklace that my grandmother had given her that she wears only on Sundays and special occasions so that there's less chance that it'll be lost. Her ID bracelet has a heart on each side of the nameplate area, and 'Abigail' is engraved between them. 'To Daddy's girl with love' is engraved on the underside.

For Sami, knowing that she would want something similar to her sister's, but not exactly the same thing so that she can be an individual - I don't know where she comes up with some of this stuff - I chose a dog tag style necklace made out of stainless steel with a ladybug on it. I had 'Samantha' engraved down the length of it and, on the backside, I had it engraved to say, 'To Daddy's little girl with love'.

Knowing that she understands that Valentine's Day is more a commercial holiday to express love of spouse or significant other, but not wanting her to feel left out because, to our knowledge, she has no boyfriend at the moment, I opted to get Mattie a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a bouquet of mixed flowers.

We enter the house through the door from the garage and find everyone in the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies with Gee Gee.

Wanting to give her gift to him discreetly, much the way that he'd left her card, Mac asks Ty to carry a bag for her to our room, and I ask the girls to meet me in the living room.

Before I head in to join the younger girls, I give the flowers and candy to Mattie, giving her a hug and telling her, "Happy Valentine's Day".

In the living room, Sami rips off the wrapping paper, has the box open and is asking me to help her put on her new neck-a-lace, as she calls it, and is off to show off her new prized possession before Abigail has barely gotten the paper off of her gift.

Abigail's eyes widen with delight when she finally lifts the lid and sees the contents of her box.

"It has my name on it," she says, surprised.

"Yes, it does, and if you read the back, you'll never forget who gave it to you."

She turns it over and reads the inscription. Then she looks up at me.

"Daddy wants you to know that you're special to him and that he loves you very much," I inform her.

"I love you, too, Daddy," she says with tears in her eyes.

"Do you want me to help you put it on?"

Her only response is to nod affirmatively.

Once the bracelet is securely fastened, she moves to hug me.

"I love it, Daddy," she says into my ear, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

"I'm glad. I hoped you would," I say as she releases me.

It may be the wrong time, but only she and I are in the room at the moment, so I decide that this might be a good opportunity.

"While it's just you and me, can Daddy talk to you about something?"

While she beams and stares at her bracelet, she replies, sounding surprisingly grown up, "Yes, what do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about the reason that you told Momma that you wanted to move to San Diego in a few weeks," I begin.

**1755**

My wife had made her plan clear on the way home from the mall. She was going to get Tyler away from the group and give him his gift. Then she was going to start getting ready for the dinner portion of our date and said that she'd let me know when she was almost ready so that I could take my turn in the bathroom. However, I'm still waiting for word that I can go in, and I'm wondering how much longer I should wait before I head to our bedroom without getting her okay first so that we won't be going out looking mismatched - her looking like a movie star and me looking like a bum.

It isn't that I need a lot of time to get ready, but for our special date, I'd like to shower and shave again, and put on a suit and tie.

Calculating the latest time that I feel that we can leave the house to avoid being late, and taking into account how much time I think I'll need to get ready, I find that I can wait for a little while longer before I invade our bedroom and interrupt whatever pre-date preparation routine Mac is engaged in when the door bell rings.

"That should be Kevin. I'll get it!" I hear Mattie scream from the kitchen.

I don't see any reason why she should come from three rooms away when I'm in the room closest to the front door.

"I've got it!" I yell over my shoulder as my hand grasps the doorknob.

I open the door, and what I see has me wishing that I hadn't opened the door.

"Wait right there. She'll be just a minute," I say softly so that no one else hears me and knows that I've already seen him.

I hear him gulp as I close the door in his face.

This is one time when I know that opening the door is part of the 'atmosphere' of the gesture and that Mattie needs to be the one to open the door to greet him.

Mattie comes into the foyer, and I look at her, hoping that the look on my face doesn't convey any hint of what she's about to see. Then I say casually, "It's for you."

"I know," she replies with a look that tells me that she thinks that I've lost my mind, probably wondering why I didn't just open the door.

Part of me knows that I should excuse myself and let them have a moment of privacy, but as her dad, I want to stay to see if he means it as a_ friendly _gesture or if he's taking a chance on love this Valentine's Day.

With a roll of her eyes at me, Mattie opens the door, and I hear her gasp.

"These are for you." I hear Kevin say to her.

"They're beautiful...but why?" Mattie says, apparently having caught her breath after seeing Kevin dressed in a suit, and holding red roses and a heart-shaped box of candy.

"Because..." he begins as he steps into the house, but no words follow.

Mattie looks in my direction, and I get the impression that she believes that my presence has something to do with him not being able to speak freely.

"Dad, shouldn't you be changing your clothes or something so that you're ready to go to dinner when Mom is?"

It isn't that I don't have time to listen in, but the pleading look in Mattie's eyes that says, 'please, Dad, go away', gets my feet to start moving.

"I guess I should probably put on something dresser than jeans," I state as if the thought of changing my clothes hadn't occurred to me before she mentioned it.

I can't say that I don't want to stay and listen to what Kevin has to say and how Mattie will react to it, but I force myself to walk away.

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA **

**2230**

**MAC'S POV**

Outside the front door, his hand comes up to cup my cheek. He leans in, and his lips press softly against mine.

It's how I imagined that he'd have kissed me at the end of the evening if we _had _dated.

"Now that I've walked you to your door, I guess our date is over," Harm says, sounding saddened by the idea of our night ending.

He unlocks the door and steps aside to let me enter first.

However, he doesn't follow me inside.

I turn and ask, "Aren't you coming in?"

I'm puzzled by his behavior since, though we were on a date, so to speak, we _are_ married.

"A gentleman shouldn't assume that his date is going to invite him in," he replies softly.

"I think you'd be safe in thinking that I had such a nice time that I wasn't ready to say good night yet," I reply with a wink, and playing along with his date scenario, I ask, "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"Tea would be nice," he replies.

**KITCHEN**

After starting the water for tea, I turn to him. "May I take your jacket?"

I get a warm smile in response as he shrugs it off his shoulders.

"I'm going to go hang this up so it doesn't get wrinkled. I'll be right back," I say to keep his dating fantasy alive since, though I will hang up his coat, I'm using the opportunity to slip away to check on the children.

I'm gone longer than I'd originally planned because I decided that, if we're going to play out this date idea to the end, I should change into the little something that I bought earlier this week for him to see me in tonight.

When I return to the kitchen, his back is to me, but I can tell that he's preparing our tea.

He must sense that I've entered the room because he turns and eyes me appreciatively as he takes in the view of me in a red, of course, for Valentine's Day, silk knee-length robe that I have tied at my waist, covering my latest purchase of sexy undergarments.

"I hope that it doesn't upset you, but I really don't want any tea," I say in a seductive purr.

He drops the spoon on the counter.

"Neither do I," he says in a husky voice, his eyes sparkling with desire.

I gently tug on his tie, and he leans in to meet my lips.

His arms come around me, but when he begins to pull me to him, I push him away.

"I don't live alone. We should go to my room."

I'm unsure if he's no longer caught up in the fantasy scenario or is now simply too aroused to play along by asking a question that one might expect, such as, 'you don't live with your mother, do you?'

In fact, he doesn't utter a single word. He just follows me to our bedroom where, once the door is closed, he reaches for me, taking me in his arms and pulling me in close to him.


	44. Chapter 44, Part 3 of Hearts and Flowers

**AN: **This is the last part of this chapter.

I'd also like to extend a thank you to Michelle V and an Anonymous reviewer for their kind words about my stories. I'd have sent you a private message, but there was no link for me to do so. So, know that I read your comments and know that I appreciate you reading and taking the time to comment.

Thanks to all who read, whether you review/comment or not.

Now for the final part of this chapter.

**PART THREE**

**SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2009 **

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0022**

**MAC'S POV**

Still breathless and covered in small beads of perspiration, we automatically begin to find a comfortable position to enjoy our post-coital bliss.

By the time our breathing has evened out, we've settled into a familiar position. He's lying with his back flat against the mattress with me cuddled closely, as if I need him for warmth. One of my legs is draped comfortably over his, and my head is resting on his shoulder with my cheek almost making contact with his chest.

Sex is the one thing that I've never questioned that I'm good at, so I don't need to seek assurance that he found satisfaction both physically - which would be hard for him to hide - and emotionally. However, his silence in the moments since our lovemaking ended is something rare for him.

It isn't that he's talkative after sex, but he doesn't usually just lie there. He says I love you, good night ... something, but not tonight, which makes me wonder...

I try to shake the idea that something is wrong by reminding myself that, when it comes to the bedroom - even if that isn't the room that we're in at the time - it is the one place where we've never had any trouble with communication - not once. Yet somehow a tiny morsel of doubt remains in my thoughts.

If by chance one of the children would come looking for one of us, the top sheet is pulled across us to cover the parts of our bodies that we wouldn't want our children, especially one of the opposite gender to see, I glance down and take note that there's no tent in the sheet to suggest that Harm didn't find the same relief in release that I enjoyed, so I doubt that his silence has anything to do with our Valentine's Day lovemaking session.

"My Valentine's Day was perfect ... and the night was even better. I love you," I whisper.

"I love you," he whispers back before placing a kiss on the crown of my head.

The room falls silent once again. However, his fingers become active and begin to run in a line up and down my arm.

The movement of his fingers reminds me of the way that I absentmindedly draw circles on his chest when I'm lost in thought or want to discuss a subject that I don't think will go over well with him.

Now curious, I ask, "Penny for your thoughts?"

**HARM'S POV**

"I was just thinking that I'm going to miss you ... this," I say, letting my voice trail off.

"When am I going to give you a chance to miss me?" she asks. It seems that she's forgotten the decision that's been looming over our heads, at least for the moment.

"Unless you've changed your mind and you've decided to come with me, while I'm in California and you're here," I inform her.

"What changed your mind?"

"I spoke with Abigail while I was waiting for you to get ready for dinner. I wanted to talk to her about the reason that she gave you for going with me."

"That there's no ice for her to fall on in California?" she asks as if seeking verification that she understands to what I'm referring.

"Yes. Then I reminded her that it'll be spring soon, and there won't be ice or snow here. Then I asked her if that information would change her answer."

"She must have said that it would. So with Ty and Abby both wanting to stay here, you're now agreeing to let them finish out the school year before we join you in San Diego?"

"Yes," I say softly, not really wanting to give in, but thinking that Mac was right and that it _is_ best for our children.

"We'll miss you, too, you know," she reassures me.

"I'll bet not half as much as I'll miss you," I say, squeezing her shoulder.

"When do you want to tell the children that we've made a decision?" she asks.

"No reason to put it off. They know that it's a possibility, so it isn't going to be a surprise to them, and they should know before my mother calls. Mom's asked every Sunday when she calls if I know yet where I'm going to be stationed next, so we can tell her today, too. Though I doubt that she'll take it well. That isn't to say that she won't be glad to see me, but I know that she won't be really happy until her grandchildren arrive in San Diego."

"I do think that when we talk to your parents, we should let them know that we don't have all the details worked out."

Her statement catches me off guard.

"I thought you had it all planned," I reply, slightly confused.

"I thought I did, too... " she says with a chuckle. "...but my plan may need some revisions."

"Such as?" I inquire.

**MAC'S POV**

"I gave some thought to what you said, and you did have a point about having to care for five young children while having packers and movers in the house. That may be more challenging than I'd like to admit, and though I don't think that it's more than I can handle, why put me or the children through that if we can come up with a better plan?"

He's eyeing me curiously.

"Obviously, Ty and Abby will be staying here to finish the school year. Patty won't be quite six months old when you leave, and she's still dependent on breast milk for a large portion of her nutrition, so she'll need to stay with me. That leaves Sami and Matthew, but Matt is still so young, too, and Sami can be a handful ... and your parents have done so much to help us already that I don't want them to have to babysit. At the same time, I don't want you trying to find daycare while you're getting settled into your new command position."

"We could wait, and I could take the two of them with me when I come for Easter," he suggests.

"Matthew will be only eighteen months old," I say with a sigh. "I don't want to be away from them that long." I begin to get teary at the thought that I'd be separated from him or Sami.

"I know exactly what you mean," he says with understanding. "The babies in particular seem to grow so fast that I swear that Matt and Patty change between the time I leave for work and the time I get home."

"How do we decide what's best for everyone?"

"I don't know, but right now, I say we get some sleep. We'll think better when we're rested. We'll talk about it more in the morning." I pause to lift her chin until our eyes meet. "One of us has always come up with a plan in the past, and I have no reason to believe that this time will be any different," I add reassuringly.

"Yes, I'll be able to think more clearly after I get some sleep. Something will come to me."

I know that dispassionate plans are her forte, so to speak - Russia comes to mind as an example - but I'd like to point out that I, too, am capable of coming up with a plan of action. Instead, I let her have her moment and don't say a word.

I kiss her lips softly and then pull her body in close to mine.

"Good night, Mac."

"Good night, Harm."

Sated and at peace with the fact that, though we don't have an actual plan as of yet, Mac and I are no longer on opposite sides when it comes to moving the family, sleep quickly claims both of us.

**0145**

Though sleeping soundly, there's part of me that knows and is relishing the feel of my wife's naked form against mine, a true enjoyment that makes the racket that begins to echo around the room that much more annoying than I'd find it on any other given night.

My sleepy sense of hearing finally identifies the sound - ringing, as in someone is calling us in the middle of the night, and that realization causes my initial irritation to morph into a sinking feeling because, whoever heard of anyone calling with good news during the night?

Wanting to answer the phone before it wakes the whole house, I take the receiver firmly in hand and lift it to my ear.

Hoping that it's work related and not personal, I say clearly but with more than a hint of sleep in my voice, "This is Captain Rabb."

"I did call your house, right, Harm? I mean, is there any time when you aren't on duty?" a man's voice says. It's a voice that I've heard in my sleep before, though it was many years ago now - back when he and I were attending the Naval Academy together.

"Keeter, do you know what time it is?"

"Not exactly ... late there I guess. Sorry I woke you." I hear him laugh. "Who am I kidding? I'm not sorry, man. I had to call my best old buddy so he could congratulate me!"

He's said enough for me to hear a slight slur of his words, making it known that he's been drinking. So now his late night phone call makes a little more sense to me.

"...Well, us," he adds.

I don't know if the two words he added made it clearer to me or if I'm starting to enter a more alert state in which the additional words jog a bit of information from my memory bank, reminding me that he'd told me that he was going to pop the question to Linda.

"So she said yes," I say, happy for him, but feeling that he could've waited until he got back or at least until a reasonable hour of the morning to let me know. "Congratulations, Keeter."

"She did more than say yes. She said I do. We got married thirty minutes ago."

I pull my arm from around Mac and turn, keeping my voice low so as not to wake her, but shocked by what I heard or at least thought I heard, I ask, "What?"

"Yep, surprised me, too," Keeter replies. "My plan was to ask her after dinner, and I figured that I'd be spending the rest of our weekend convincing her to say yes, but that isn't how it went at all, well, except that I did ask her after dinner last night. However, her answer wasn't the no or I'll have to think about it that I'd anticipated. Instead, her answer was yes if I agreed to one condition, which was that we not have a big wedding. My response was that it was just fine with me that I didn't have to wear a monkey suit and that I'd be fine with a Vegas quickie wedding. To which she said, "Great idea! We can get hitched here, and it'll be done."

"Then shouldn't you be getting off the phone and getting back to your honeymoon?" I suggest to him.

"Yeah, I should...I'll call you when we get back," Keeter replies before he ends the call by hanging up on his end.

"I wish the you best, Keeter," I say to no one as I replace the phone receiver back into its cradle.

Her hand touches my shoulder. "Bad news from Jack?" Mac asks from behind me in a voice that's little more than a whisper.

"Not until the divorce," I say, not hiding my skepticism concerning his rush to the altar.

"Then I did hear correctly when I heard you say something about a honeymoon."

"Yes, I told you that I had lunch with Keeter the other day, but in order not to spoil their announcement if she said yes, I didn't tell you that he and Linda were taking off for an extended weekend trip to Las Vegas and that he was planning to pop the question on Valentine's Day. That phone call was to tell me that he'd asked, she'd said yes, and they were married a half hour ago," I inform her.

"You don't sound as happy for him now as you did on the phone," she comments while placing her arms around my shoulders as if to comfort me.

"I _am_ happy for him. I'm happy that he's happy."

"So what was that crack about "until the divorce"? Sour grapes because you're upset that you didn't get an invitation to the wedding?" she questions teasingly.

"No," I reply, rolling my eyes at the idea that she'd think I'd be upset by that. "The fact is that I always thought that if Keeter got married, I'd get a call like that one. Of course, I also pictured him giving some drunk proposal to a stripper who took him up on it and got him to the altar."

"Are you lamenting the loss of the sole bachelor left from your Academy days?" Mac asks.

"No. It's just hard for me to believe that, not only did Linda say yes, but that she didn't think more about it before she got to the altar when, up to this point, she's been so adamant about not getting married again."

"I don't think you need to worry about your friend getting hurt. She and I have talked, and my guess is that she didn't want time to think about it. She was afraid of chickening out and losing the man who she loves in the process." Mac pauses briefly. "Another option is that Jack can be quite charming, so he may have won out over her fears."

"Or worn her down," I say, knowing that when Keeter gets an idea in his head, he's persistent in reaching his goal.

"Could be that, too..." Mac acknowledges with a smile. "...but Valentine's Day is barely behind us, so I'm going with the more romantic, love conquers all fears and obstacles."

"Let's not work on writing their love story and work on our own," I say before my lips claim hers.

Parting from her lips, I mumble, "What time is it?"

"Does it really matter?" she asks in her seductive purr as she falls back against the mattress, pulling me down on top of her where we're soon lost in the touch and feel of each other with no thought to the fact that the time we spend making love is sleep lost.

**DEN**

**1239 - LOCAL / 0939 - PACIFIC TIME**

**HARM'S POV**

"Hello, Harm." The greeting is delivered with the amount of loving warmth that's achievable only by my mother.

"Hi, Mom," I reply with less formality, but not with any less warmth in my voice.

"We would've been calling later today, like usual, so I hope that the fact that you called us doesn't mean that you have bad news," she replies with concern in her voice.

"Not really bad news, but there is a part of it that you won't like," I say, trying to ease into the news about her grandchildren not being there in a few weeks.

"I take that vague answer to mean that you've received your orders and that you won't be moving to San Diego," she says, her disappointment obvious. "Will you be stationed in Hawaii as you speculated that you might be to replace the captain who became the Deputy JAG?"

I'm about to respond when I hear muffled sounds and then my mother says, "Harm."

Someone, probably Frank must have come into the room and asked who was on the phone.

"I'm putting you on speaker phone, dear," my mother says, and then I hear a click.

"Hi, Harm," comes the voice of the other half of my audience.

"Hi, Frank," I greet.

"Harm called us before we called them to tell us that he has his orders. His introduction to the subject indicates that he isn't coming to San Diego, so I'd just asked him if he got the billet in Hawaii since they gave _that _captain the Deputy JAG position." She pauses briefly. "I caught Frank up on our conversation, so tell us, Harm, did you get Hawaii, and if not, just where are my grandchildren going to be for the next two or three years?"

"I didn't get stationed at Pearl Harbor. The CO of the RSLO in San Diego got that assignment, which I thought meant that Sturgis Turner would be moved into the San Diego billet since they're closing the JLS office there, but he's retiring, so, as of the middle of next month, I'll be the new CO at RSLO, San Diego."

"That can't be all there is to it because you said that I wasn't going to like it, and I love that you're going to be stationed here," she replies, her need for clarity clear as she waits for the other shoe to drop.

"What I said is that there's going to be _part_ of it that you won't like," I correct.

"Don't you give me that lawyer spin, Harmon Rabb," she says in a reprimanding tone. Then I hear her gasp. "Oh, my god, don't tell me that your family isn't coming with you." She sounds panic struck.

"They are, just not right away," I inform her, hoping that she processes my answer before her mind goes into shock and starts shutting down. "It doesn't seem right for Mac to have to deal with the packers and movers and all five children at the same time, but Ty and Abby are at an age where Mac and I feel that it's important for them to finish the school year where they started it. So I'll be there next month, but the rest of the family won't be joining me for a few months. I'd like to be able to tell you exactly when, but we don't have any details worked out yet. However, I'm sure that we'll come up with something in the next few weeks, and I'll give you updates as I have them."

"Harm," my mother says sternly, and I brace myself for an onslaught of ideas to get her grandchildren to her, but instead of more of her voice, I hear Frank speak.

"If we can help in any way, you let us know," Frank says sincerely, and I can picture him with his hand lovingly on my mother's shoulder, comforting and keeping her from pushing me to change my mind.

"Thanks, Frank. Mac and I appreciate the fact that you and Mom are always there for us."

"You're welcome, son," Frank responds.

"If that's what you called to tell us, then we'll let you get back to your family. We'll call at our regular time to speak with the children," my mother says, the disappointment at not seeing her grandchildren sooner still apparent in her tone.

"Okay, we'll talk to you after dinner tonight as usual," I say, knowing that my mother needs time to digest the information that I gave her.

"Goodbye, Harm," I hear Mom and Frank say in unison.

**LIVING ROOM**

**SAME TIME**

**MATTIE'S POV**

Since it's nap time for Matt, Patty and Sami, I pass through the living room on my way to the kitchen to grab a soda - an intentional detour from my room - hoping to find Mac alone, but not expecting to in this busy house. Surprisingly, I find her reading a book.

"Hey, Mom, are you alone in here?"

"Yes," she says, lifting her head from the page that she was reading. "Gee Gee and Abigail are in the kitchen working on something delicious, no doubt. Ty is in there with them, too, but only until Harm finishes with the phone call that he's making from our bedroom, then the boys will be in the garage doing whatever they do out there."

"You're probably enjoying the peace and quiet. I'll let you get back to your book."

"Actually, I'm getting used to the noise, and to tell you the truth, being by myself makes me feel a little lonely these days." She pauses briefly. "You could help me with that by sitting down and keeping me company for a bit. We could talk. We haven't had time for 'girl talk' in a while."

"How did you know that I needed to talk?" I ask, dropping onto the couch at the end closet to the chair in which Mac is sitting.

**MAC'S POV**

Given that Kevin showed up here yesterday with roses and candy in hand, that Mattie has said nothing about him thus far today, that Gee Gee told us after breakfast that she saw no hand holding, kissing good night or other such displays of affection, that things actually seemed tense between them, suggesting to her that they hadn't become a couple, and finally, that Mattie hadn't said more than three words to anyone until she asked me if I were in here alone, I'd say that it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she's more inside herself and working on resolving the issue with Kevin than she's here with us. The only real question was who'd she choose to talk to, Gee Gee, Harm or myself.

Not wanting to reveal how easy it is to read her, I reply by saying**, **"A mom just knows."

"Do you know _why_ I need to talk, too?"

She sounds a little put off by my 'telepathic' abilities.

"If I had to guess, I'd say that it has something to do with Kevin," I volunteer.

"I guess that didn't take much mother's intuition. He shows up here all dressed up with flowers and candy on Valentine's Day..." Her voice trails off.

"I thought it was sweet, but I take it that you don't feel the same way," I conclude from her body language.

"No, I think it was sweet, romantic even..." she says with a sigh. "...but why did he have to go and put pressure on our friendship by trying to change it ... and why now?"

"I'm willing to listen, but you do know that I can't really answer either one of those questions. If you want those answers, you'll have to ask Kevin."

"I did ask him," she says, looking at a spot on the floor.

"Was he able to give you any answers?" I inquire.

"He said that he didn't want me to feel pressured to be his girlfriend but that he needed for me to know how he felt, that he needed for me to know that, when he thinks of his future, I'm in it ... not as his best friend, but by his side. He said that he's known for a while that he loves me, but that he thought that we had time. He said that changed when I had my back surgery. He questioned how he'd feel if I hadn't come out of surgery and he'd never had a chance to tell me how he felt. He said that he'd still wrestled with the idea of telling me because we're such good friends and he didn't want to risk damaging our friendship."

Her story reminds me of another couple - Harm and me.

"In the end, he said that he felt that it was doing a disservice to both of us by keeping his feelings to himself. That if I felt the same way about him, then we were wasting time that we could be making memories and creating a history that we could tell our children about. On the flip side, if I didn't love him, we could still be friends, and I'd just have to understand that I'd have someone who would always love me. As far as the actual day, he said that, if you're going to tell a girl that you love her, Valentine's Day seemed like the perfect day to do it," she says as she finishes relating what Kevin had said to her.

I wish that either Harm or I had had Kevin's wisdom.

"You've told me what he said, so now I have to ask what you think. You've known Kevin for some time. Have you ever thought of him as a boy you might want to date?" I ask.

"He's smart, cute, funny ... of course I've thought about him that way, but we've always been such good friends that I didn't want to go there. You know ..." Mattie stops as if she can't find the right words to complete her thought.

"...Risk losing the friendship that you had for a relationship that might not work out?" I supply for her.

"Yes," she says with a sigh.

"Do you love him?" I inquire.

"I do," she replies with honest sincerity, letting me know that she isn't just saying it but feeling it. However, I can hear hesitation in her voice, as well.

"But?" I ask in hopes of prompting her to continue without having to ask more probing questions.

"His timing... A lot's happened to me in the last few months. I'm just getting my life back on track. Do I have the time and energy to give to a relationship right now?"

"I think it's good that you aren't just jumping into a relationship just so you'll have someone. I've been guilty of that in the past, and I have to tell you that if you're in a relationship for the wrong reasons, it'll be good for a while, but it won't work long-term. However, if two people are together because they love each other, then I believe that anything's possible."

"So you think that I should go for it?" she says like a question, and I'm afraid that she's asking me to make her decision for her.

"Only you can decide if you want to give the relationship a chance, but if you want my advice, here it is: Tell him the good, the bad and the ugly." She gives me an odd look, but she doesn't have to ask. I knew that I'd have to make my meaning clearer to her. "Tell him that you love him," I begin to explain, "but also be honest with him and tell him that you have reservations about starting a relationship now and why."

"What if he doesn't understand ... or worse, he decides that I'm not worth the trouble of waiting for me to figure it all out?"

"What if he does understand? What if he says that he'll wait and for you to let him know when you're ready? What if he says that he isn't going anywhere and stays by your side to support you while you work things out?" I ask rhetorically.

"I'm going to get a soda and go back to my room to think about what you've said. Hopefully, I'll know what I'm going to do before I head back to Blacksburg after dinner."

She stands, hugs my neck and leaves the room, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

**FIVE MINUTES LATER**

"I saw Mattie in the hall. She muttered something that sounded like 'love sucks,' and since everyone was asleep or at least in their room when we got home last night, I decided that I'd check with you and my grandmother to see if there was any word on how her talk with Kevin went before I assume that what I heard means that the talk that she had with him didn't go well," Harm says after he kisses me on the cheek.

"I think she's scared. She loves him, but she's unsure if she's good enough for him ... afraid that he'll hurt her, that she'll hurt him. She just saw his declaration of love as something that came out of the blue and she's pondering if the time is right for her to give love a chance," I explain. "Speaking of love, does your mom still love you after you told her that the kids are going to be staying here until the school year is over?"

"She still loves me, but she isn't very happy with me right now," Harm says while shrugging his shoulders.

"I'll talk to her when they call this evening and let her know that it was my idea if it'll help get you back into her good graces," I offer.

"Thanks, but that isn't necessary. I knew that it would be hard for her, but once she has time to think it over and realizes that we could've been stationed some place where she wasn't going to be near the kids at all, she'll be able to focus on being happy that we're moving back so close to her."

"Even if she has to wait a few extra months?" I say teasingly.

"Yes, even if she has to wait a few extra months. Though, when we talk to her ... do you think it sounds better to say that the kids will be there in three months or twelve weeks?" he questions with a chuckle.

"We'll have to ask our resident expert on impatience which one sounds better when she gets up from her nap," I say, standing to hug him.

I wrap my arms around him.

My embrace is a sign of my support of him. I know that telling his mother that his family wasn't going to be traveling with him was difficult, but I also know that he's thinking about the much harder part ... us living apart for that three months.

As we hold each other in a comforting embrace, I begin to think about the time that we'll be apart and a moment like this won't be possible, and I decide that, if I'm asked to vote on the matter, twelve weeks sounds like we'll be together sooner than when the time is measured in months.

**JOHNSON HOME**

**BLACKSBURG, VIRGINIA**

**2147 **

**MATTIE'S POV**

I've called this number hundreds, maybe thousands of times, so why is my hand trembling as I enter Kevin's number on my cell phone?

As I press the send button, I tell myself that it's because I've never called him for something like this, and if he doesn't like what I have to say, I could be making the call that ends our years of friendship.

I nervously tap my foot while I wait for him to answer while the thought flutters through my head that I should've planned what I'd say if my call goes to voice mail.

On the third ring, he picks up.

"Mattie, hi."

I know that I called him and I thought that I had some idea of what I was going to say, but, suddenly, I can't think of how to begin.

"I'm glad that you called because I wasn't sure that I should call you," he says, which I find odd.

"Huh?"

'Could my response have been any more lame or less inarticulate?' I think as I listen to him speak again.

"I wanted to call to make sure that your first time driving back since your surgery had gone okay and that you'd made it to your place in Blacksburg without any problems," he adds in explanation.

"Then why would you think that you shouldn't call me?" I ask, not following his logic. If he loves me, why wouldn't he want to know if I arrived safely?

"I was worried that if I phoned you might think that I was pressuring you for an answer..." His voice trails off.

"It's funny that you should mention that because, not only did I want to call to make sure that you'd made it back to Blacksburg safely..." I hadn't really thought about that, but I certainly don't want him to know that after he expressed his concern about me. "...I was calling to tell you that I've done a lot of thinking since yesterday and -"

"You have great timing. I'm only about five minutes from your house. I can be there -" he says, cutting me off.

"No," I begin, cutting him off. "I'm tired. I just want to tell you what I have to say and then go to bed."

"Okay, then, go ahead ... say what you've gotta say," he says, and it's only then that I realize how sharp by tone was.

"My dad says that what's worse than quitting is never trying." I hope that Harm never finds out that I quote him sometimes.

"I'm not sure that I understand. Are you saying that you want to be my girlfriend?" Kevin asks skeptically.

"What I'm saying is that I have feelings for you, too, and I've thought about us being a couple more than once, but I'm not sure that I'm ready for another relationship right now. I also know that we've known each other for a long time, but we haven't been as close in the last few months ... things may have changed me into someone you don't want to be involved with, but if you're interested in finding out if I'm still the girl you love, and if you're willing to take things slowly and be patient with me while I work out a few more things ... I'd like very much for us to try to make it work with us."

"So when's our first date?" he inquires cheerfully, and it brings a smile to my face.

"Date? I was thinking more like meeting for coffee."

"That works for me, too. So where and when?"

"How about tomorrow? The Starbucks near campus," I suggest nervously.

"So soon? You sure that isn't rushing things?" he says with a laugh, and I know that he's teasing me. "Nine too early for you? I'd make it later, but I have a class at ten-thirty."

"Nine will be fine," I say, feeling more happy than scared like I was earlier when I called him.

"Then until tomorrow. Sweet dreams."

I smile widely and I'm thankful that he can't see it. I don't want him to get all full of himself knowing that he can have an effect on my mood.

Saying goodbye may be an acceptable way to end a phone call, but it seems so final, and this, I hope, is the beginning of something.

"Good night," I say before ending the call.

Heading upstairs, I wonder if I'll have any better success at getting any rest tonight. Last night, I lay awake wondering what I was going to do, and tonight, I may be so eager to see Kevin in the morning that sleep will still elude me.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2210**

**MAC'S POV**

Harm stands to his full height, his thumbs still tucked in the waistband of his pajama pants as if he's just finished putting them on when I enterthe room from checking on the children one last time before bed.

It isn't that we have sex every night, but for some reason, tonight I'm sexually charged in a way that I don't ever remember being before, and I find the sight of him half-dressed a disappointment.

Wait, I do remember a time or two when I've felt the strong need to be with him. It's been when we've known that we were going to be apart.

I don't know if it has a name, but I'm sure that any military spouse or any spouse of someone who spends time away from home for business understands what I'm feeling. It's a need to see if the moments that we spend alone can be "stored" until we're together again.

**HARM'S POV**

"You're wearing pajamas tonight," she comments, not looking at my face, but staring at the part of me that gave her pleasure both last night and this morning.

"I can be out of them in seconds," I say with a cocky smile, the one that she says she hates, but I know that she secretly finds it alluring.

**MAC'S POV**

I hate it when he smiles at me like that ... no I don't, not really. It's a sexy grin that I've told him is cocky, and it is, but there's more to it. It's a glimpse of the bad boy side of him.

Harm has said that I'm complicated - a combination of feminine woman and a gung-ho Marine - and it threw him off. I could say the same of him. Everyone sees his persona of white knight: pure of heart, heroic and fighter for freedom, truth and justice, but there's more to the man, much more.

Harm has discipline - the sailor/aviator in him - that he uses to control his inner 'bad boy' - the part of him that doesn't always follow the rules, the part that's calculating and capable of doing the job no matter the danger and damn the consequences. The combination is a heady blend that I find intoxicating.

I realize that his smile distracted me and I've let silence linger too long without saying anything.

"There's no crime in not being in the mood," I say, hoping that I don't sound disappointed.

"I didn't say that I wasn't in the mood," he says as his arms wrap around me and he begins to pull me close to him. "We just can't sleep in tomorrow. I've got work, and two of our children need to go to school, so I thought that we should try to make up for some of the sleep that we haven't been getting this weekend."

"I suppose we should," I agree, though not whole-heartedly.

He lowers his head, and his lips come to mine, claiming them.

He pulls me in closer to him and administers a kiss that says anything but good night, which leaves me dazed and confused. Does he want me as this kiss suggests or not, as his state of dress indicates?

He pulls his lips away from mine.

"What was that for if we aren't going to ...?" Breathless, I don't finish the sentence, but I've said enough for him to know what I'm asking him.

"I know that I don't say it enough, but I want you to know that I do love you ... very much."

His voice is husky, his eyes smoky, and him holding me against him is enough to send my already raging hormones into hyper-drive so that I want him more than I did when I came into the room.

"I love you, too," I say with a sigh at the sweetness of the moment even though the kiss was sexually charged.

I place my forehead against his bare chest, enjoying the scent of him that's filling my nostrils and feeling comfort and security in his arms.

The effects of his kiss begin to subside as I stand in his embrace, and soon a thought comes to me that perhaps he's feeling some form of the heightened sense of need to make the most out of each moment that we're together until he leaves for California, too.

I turn my head so that my words won't be mumbled into his chest but spoken so that he can hear them clearly.

"Talking today with your parents about you leaving made it all so much more real and urgent."

"I know ... more like it's going to happen in days, not weeks," he comments. "My mother seemed more at peace with our decision when they called back for their usual weekend call this evening," he adds.

"I know that they're trying to be supportive and helpful, but I don't know if we can make any real plans until you get to your command and are able to gauge to some degree if you'll be able to take leave and come here to help with the move."

"You're probably right. Though, that means that we'll probably be making plans by phone or waiting until I come here for Easter to talk about it more." I feel him deposit a kiss on the top of my head. "I don't want to talk about it any more tonight, okay?"

"Okay," I agree easily, since talking wasn't on my mind when I came into our room.

"I ..." Why am I stammering? It isn't that I'm wanting something new, unusual or kinky. I just want him.

If I can't spit it out, I know how to express my desire to be with him.

I pull out of his embrace, untie my robe and drop it to the floor as quickly as I can shed it from my body.

My breasts warm as he gazes appreciatively at me.

"You're beautiful," he says as his eyes travel over the length of my body.

I feel heat in my cheeks and lower my head so as not to make eye contact with him.

Looking down, I see that my nipples have stiffened and are making their desire to be given attention known by making small peaks in my lightweight nightgown.

He takes me in his arms and mutters, "Who needs sleep anyway?" Then his lips come to mine, and his hand glides up from my hip and glances the side of my breast, causing me to let out a low moan against his lips.

His kisses are hot, passionate and full of desire. His touch is gentle and loving.

I tilt my head back, allowing him access to my neck as he begins a trail of kisses from my lips along my jaw towards my ear.

As he begins to assault my senses by nipping at my earlobe and kissing and nipping at my skin in that little spot that triggers something within me, the roses on my dresser catch my eye, and I know that I don't needa special day of hearts and flowers to know that he loves me.

His feelings for me are evident in the passionate way that he kisses me, in the way that he looks at me and in the tenderness of his touch as his hands roam over my skin.

As I close my eyes, my last thought before I surrender to my need for him and his desire to make love to me is that I know that I have his heart and he has mine every day.


	45. Prologue - Dealing With Separation

**CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR - DEALING WITH SEPARATION**

**PROLOGUE **

**TUESDAY, MARCH 10, 2009 **

**VIRGINIA **

**1007**

'The last twenty-five days have flown by faster than an F-14,' Harm thought as he merged onto I-66. He just hoped that the next three months would go by as quickly.

Though he was just beginning his trip west, it had already been a long day for him emotionally.

Harm's day had begun when his subconscious anxiety from knowing that he had to leave but not looking forward to it had awakened him before dawn.

Trying to get comfortable in order to get a few more hours of sleep, he'd discovered that his wife was also awake, and they'd made love.

After making love, he'd stayed in bed, savoring the moment and enjoying the feel of his wife cuddled against him until Patty had wailed for her breakfast.

Feeling that he needed time with his baby girl, Mac had agreed to let him give Patty a bottle instead of nursing her.

His "Little Sarah" had been fussy as her father had changed her diaper, more so than hunger alone would suggest was the cause.

In the kitchen as he'd warmed her milk, Patty's cries had filled the house, bringing her mother in from their bedroom.

"She senses that things aren't quite right around here," Mac had offered as an explanation for Patty's mood and her reluctance to take the bottle.

At the sound of her mother's voice, Patty had quieted.

Mac, who'd said that it hadn't been the first time that Patty hadn't been eager to eat in the last week, didn't scoop up Patty. Instead she'd stayed near the doorway and offered Harm a few suggestions for getting Patty to settle down. Her goal had been to keep both of them from getting frustrated, not to take over for him.

Sure enough, standing while gently swaying and holding her a little closer to him than usual, Patty had accepted the bottle that he'd offered and she'd begun to drink it down.

Once satisfied that Patty would eat, Mac had slipped from the room and left her husband to have some time to hold the precious little girl who would probably grow and change the most in the next three months.

When speaking to the children, Harm and Mac had talked about Daddy coming to see them next month, but in conversations between just the two of them, they'd always talked in terms of the maximum amount of time that they'd be apart.

The reason for looking at the time of separation differently between father and children, and husband and wife was simple. Though Harm hoped to be spending a long weekend with the family next month, there was no guarantee that, once he reported to the RLSO, he'd be able to get away. If he had to fly out for a traditional two-day weekend, once adjustments were made for travel time and time zone changes, he'd be spending very little time with them, and what time he was there would be focused on the children or doing something together as a family, leaving little or no time for them as a couple, which meant preparing themselves for the worst - a three month separation.

A few minutes after leaving the kitchen, Mac had returned with Matthew.

"He was awake, and I thought that you two could keep each other company while I take a shower."

While feeding Patty, Harm had stood gently rocking his daughter while he'd watched his youngest son pick up Cheerios from his highchair tray and stuff them in his mouth.

Though Harm had enjoyed the time with his two youngest children, he hadn't had all day to spend with them. So, once Patty had been fed, Harm had turned the care of the youngest two Rabbs over to his wife and had asked Ty to help him move his bags and guitar case to his car in the garage.

There had been two large bags filled mostly with uniforms - California would be in blues for the rest of this month, and then they'd be switching to whites - but he'd also packed a few pairs of jeans and casual shirts for weekends, and a dress shirt, tie and suit in case there was a function that his mother asked him to attend with her. Harm had carried those two bags out to the car, leaving Ty to carry his dad's duffle-style gym bag and his guitar case.

Harm could probably have carried all four items and made it in one trip, but there had been no reason for him to try when he'd wanted to have a few minutes alone with his oldest son.

"Let's check under the hood to make sure that she's ready for the road trip," Harm had said, popping the hood on his SUV.

Harm had known that his car was fine because he'd had it serviced two weeks ago in preparation for this trip, but he'd wanted this time to talk to his son without his sisters around.

As they'd gone through the motions of checking the engine's fluid levels, Harm had expressed his sadness at not being able to be there for his tenth birthday, and Ty had let him off the hook by telling him that he understood.

It hadn't been a lie. Ty did understand why his dad couldn't be there, but that didn't mean that he liked the idea.

After they'd finished checking out the car, Harm had asked his son if there was anything that he wanted to talk about before he left, and when Ty had said no, Harm had reminded him that he'd be calling every night, and that if he needed to talk to him about anything, he was only a phone call away. He'd then given him a hug and told him that he loved him and was going to miss him, and Ty had reciprocated all three - the hug, 'I love you' and 'I'll miss you."

Then, as a signal to Mac that the 'boys' were finished, Harm had backed the car out of the garage.

With his car parked in the driveway, it was time for Harm to head inside for his next planned activity.

With a desire to be on the road by ten, ahead of any lunchtime rush, it had been part of the plan to eat later than usual this morning because, though Ty hadn't been excluded from helping, Harm had decided to spend time with his daughters by doing something that they all enjoyed doing together, cooking, and making it a late breakfast had allowed him to have time with the younger children and be unhurried in preparing the morning meal with his older children.

They'd prepared the works: eggs, bacon, pancakes and sliced fruit, and after everyone had had their fill and the dishes had been cleared, it had been time for Harm to leave.

With the family all gathered in the living room, Harm had hugged the little ones who were too young to understand that Daddy wasn't going to be home tonight or be in the kitchen cooking breakfast in the morning. Then it had been time to face the three older ones and his wife.

Mac had embraced Harm with a sad smile on her face, and he knew that if the children hadn't been standing right there, she'd have been in tears, but she'd put on a brave front for the children.

"We'll be seeing you soon, Sailor," she'd said softly into his ear as she'd hugged her husband.

Stooping down to be closer to the height of his children, Harm had stated, "I'm going to miss all of you."

"A whole bunch?" Sami had asked, tears already forming in her eyes.

"Yes, a whole bunch," Harm had answered, pulling his "ladybug" into a tight embrace.

As Sami's tears had flowed freely onto her daddy's shoulder, her sister had put one arm around Harm's neck and the other arm comfortingly across her sister's back.

Still holding onto his girls, Harm had looked at his eldest son and said, "I think you have postcards from all the states that I'll be traveling through, but should I send some anyway to make sure?"

"If you send some, I'll share them with my sisters," Ty had answered thoughtfully. However, he'd still felt a little guilty because, even if he read them to his sisters, they'd be _his_ postcards, and that thought made him happy.

Abby had let go of Harm first, which had been no surprise to him. Though they were in a better place than right after the adoption, Abigail was still closer to Mac and would probably be the child who'd have the easiest time adjusting to his absence.

Harm had had to pull Sami away from his shoulder.

"Everything's going to be fine, Ladybug. Daddy will call every night before you go to bed, and I'll be back to see you at Easter before you know it."

Harm had sounded sure of himself, which, though the children hadn't been completely convinced, they'd been reassured by his words.

Feeling too old to hug his dad in front of other people, Ty had tried to resist the urge to cling to him, but once Harm had stood and Ty had known that his leaving was imminent, Ty had rushed to Harm and wrapped his arms around his dad.

Harm had understood and hadn't called attention to his son's moment of emotion. He'd simply hugged him back until he'd felt the boy's hold on him ease. Then they'd released each other.

Harm had given his wife a quick kiss, one that had been no different than when he'd left for work every morning.

Harm's plan had been to walk out of the house, get in his car and drive away, but once he'd stepped out the front door, the children had wanted to go outside and watch him as he drove away.

Mac had thought that, if it would help them deal with the separation, she couldn't say no.

Harm had pulled out of the driveway a few minutes before ten.

With his SUV out on the street, Harm had seen his family on the lawn of the house that they'd called home for the past year.

He'd driven away really slowly with the driver's window down, returning the 'goodbye' waves from his wife with their youngest child on her hip, Sami, Ty and Abigail, who'd been holding Matt's hand with the one that hadn't been waving at him, until they were no longer in his field of vision.

The separation of their family had officially begun.


	46. Chapter 46 - Part 1, Dealing With Separa

**PART ONE - Separation Underway**

**SATURDAY, MARCH 14, 2009**

**BURNETT HOME**

**LA JOLLA, CA**

**1255 LOCAL TIME - 1555 EASTERN TIME**

**HARM'S POV**

I stopped by my mother's art gallery to let her know that I'd arrived in town, but she wasn't there, so I came to the house to see her.

After ringing the bell and getting no answer, I try the door and find that it's unlocked. 'Someone is home, then,' I think as I push open the heavy wooden entry door.

Though Sharon Lassiter, the woman who manages the gallery for my mother, didn't say that my mom had gone home for lunch. The hour of the day suggests that may be the reason why she wasn't at the gallery. I just hope that I catch her here and that she hasn't already left to return to work.

"Hello ... hello," I yell to try to get someone's attention. "Mom ... Frank..."

My words just echo back to me in the foyer, so I walk farther into the house.

There's no sign of anyone in the living room, so I'm headed to the kitchen when it occurs to me that I've returned to sunny Southern California and that it's likely that they enjoyed having lunch on the patio or by the pool out back on this spring afternoon, so I change course and head to the sliding glass doors.

I find neither Frank or my mother outside.

Re-entering the house, I head towards the kitchen where I see Frank standing at the counter with his back to me.

"Hi, Frank," I say, relieved that I've finally found someone in the house.

I see him 'jump', so I know that I startled him.

He turns around, and there's a smile on his face, but it's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Harm," he says moving towards me, the surprise of hearing my voice apparently forgotten. "You made good time getting here," he comments as he embraces me. "We weren't expecting you until closer to dinnertime."

"I was up early and got on the road sooner than I'd planned when I told you my ETA. Plus, the storm that the weatherman was predicting stayed north of my route, so it didn't cause me any delays," I inform him as we break our man-style hug. "I went by the gallery first to let Mom know that I'd arrived in town, but Ms. Lassiter said that she wasn't in, so I came here to see you. When I got here, it dawned on me that Mom had probably come home to have lunch with you. Has she already left to go back to the gallery?"

"No, she's here. I was about to take lunch up to her, but I think that she'll want to come downstairs to eat now that you're here."

"Mom's in bed at this hour?" I say like a question and with surprise. My mother isn't one to take a mid-day snooze.

"Though she's doing better now, she's been feeling a little under the weather, so a nap seemed like a good idea." He pauses to take a nervous breath. "I'll go let her know that you're here," he adds, and he seems to be eager to get out of the room.

I don't want to appear skeptical or overreact, but there's something about his response or rather the delivery of it that leaves me feeling unsettled.

On his way out of the room, he calls over his shoulder, "If you're hungry or thirsty, help yourself."

Now alone in the kitchen, I don't have much of an appetite because concern about my mother's health is growing into a ball that's filling my stomach.

Opening the refrigerator door - I'm not hungry, but I could use something to drink - I try to rein in my imagination, which is already conjuring up a diverse list of diseases and medical problems that could have my mother needing to take an afternoon nap.

"She's probably just recovering from a bad cold or the flu," I tell myself as I reach for a bottle of water.

**KITCHEN**

**TWENTY MINUTES LATER**

I'm sitting at the table wondering what's taking Frank so long to return when I hear a faint but familiar voice that pulls me from my thoughts.

"Harm, darling, you're home," she says between lips that are forming a tired smile.

Frank has an arm around my mother's waist. Her pale complexion suggests to me that it isn't merely a sign of affection, but that he's supporting her as they walk in to join me.

I stand and stride quickly to her, embracing her gingerly because she looks so frail.

"I'm so happy that you made it here safely," she says as she wraps her arms around me.

Frank eyes me, and I understand the unasked question. My only response is to nod affirmatively to him, letting him know that I've got her.

Stepping away and leaving my mother in my care, Frank suggests, "Why don't the two of you sit down, and I'll finish preparing Trish's lunch?"

"Frank says that you haven't been feeling well, so where would you be more comfortable sitting, in here or some place else?"

"Here is fine," she answers, motioning at the table where I was seated when she and Frank came in. Her voice is still soft, but a little stronger than when she greeted me.

We take the few steps over to the table, my mom holding onto my arm for support.

As if she needs to focus all of her energy on walking, she doesn't speak until she's sitting down.

"Have you let Mac know that you're here so that she doesn't worry about you being out there driving in that awful storm?" she asks as I slip into the chair that I'd vacated to greet her.

"Yes, I called to let her know that the weather hadn't presented any problems for me and that I'd arrived in town when I stopped to see you at the gallery. Of course, I'll be calling home again later to say good night to the kids."

"Speaking of my grandchildren, I'm sorry that we couldn't make it to the farm for Tyler's birthday party, but when you get to be my age, you just can't shake things the way you used to, but I'm sure that they had a great time. You always enjoyed the farm when we took you there." Her eyes become glazed over, and then she speaks again, "I remember..."

I'm relieved that the distant look in her eyes is her trying to locate a memory and doesn't have to do with her health.

"...you had to be almost four. We'd gone to the farm for a visit before your father deployed, and over dinner you announced that you wanted to be a farmer."

"A farmer, really? I didn't think that Harm had ever thought of being anything other than a Navy fighter pilot," Frank comments as he walks towards the table with what looks to be a plate of antipasto.

"I don't think that Harm ever seriously considered anything other than the Navy for a career, but at least for that visit, he entertained an alternative plan," my mother explains with a smile.

Her smile suggests that at least that visit to the farm holds fond memories for her.

"Well, though I still enjoy visiting the farm, I think that I made the right choice by not becoming a farmer," I comment.

"I know that Ty likes it up there, but this was the girls first visit to the farm. What did they think of the place?" Frank asks.

"Being in tomboy mode, Sami found that being able to be far enough away from the house that she could run and scream as loudly as she wanted without anyone scolding her was quite appealing, not to mention being able to ride on the tractor and climb around in the barn."

"Ah, the totally uncomplicated life of being four," Frank comments.

"Yeah," I say with a chuckle.

"What about Abigail? Did she have a good time there?" my mother asks before taking a bite of her lunch.

"I believe that the highlight for Abby was the horses next door at the Thompson's, but I think that the farm is too far from shopping - shoe stores in particular - for my little princess to be interested in living there."

"She is all girl, isn't she?" my mother says with an appreciative smile.

"She is," I agree as I picture the "yuk" look that Abigail had on her face when she was told that the pile that she was about to step in was horse manure.

Even though I know that my mother took a nap, she's looking tired, so I don't want her to feel that she needs to stay up to keep me company.

"I just wanted to let you know that I was in town, but I should probably shove off. Though I'm traveling under orders, I take second place to troop movement when it comes to a roof over my head, so I should get to the base to see if I'm going to be a resident of the BOQ or a guest at the Navy lodge until the tenants are out of our house."

"You just got here," my mother says, obviously disappointed.

"Harm, you know that you can stay with us," Frank states.

"Yes, we've got plenty of room, and it would be nice to have you here," my mother adds.

The idea of living with my parents now is even less appealing to me than it was when I was a teenager, but with my mother looking so frail, I find myself silent as I consider the idea.

"At least for the weekend," Frank amends, perhaps sensing that living here for the six weeks until I should be able to move into our house isn't something that I - a man who's half a year away from his forty-sixth birthday - really wants to do.

"I don't know if it'll sway your decision, but I'd like to remind you that there are advantages to staying here that you aren't going to find on the base," Frank continues. "If you remember, the car that you left here in my care is out in the garage. She's been parked for quite awhile. Staying here, you could work on her anytime, day or night."

When I'd received my orders for the shorter than normal special assignment of thirteen months, I'd come to the conclusion that I didn't want to get rid of it, but I had to face the fact that Washington weather and being a family man were conspiring against the practicality of my 'Vette.

The solution at the time was to leave my beloved car in Frank's hands until I was assigned to a duty station that made sense to move her or I could bear to part with her.

Luckily for me, the prior one came first.

"You could stay on Frank's boat at the Marina. You'd be closer to us than you'd be to the base, but you'd have a place of your own," my mother offers as a compromise.

It sounds like her suggestion is more of a plea to have me close.

'With only four pieces of luggage, if you include my guitar case in the count, it isn't that I'd have a lot to move to another place after a few days,' I think.

"Why don't I drag out having to choose for now by staying here for the weekend to relax, spend some time with you and check out my car?"

My mother smiles, and I know that I've made her happy with my decision to stay, even if it's only for the weekend.

Frank looks relieved, causing me to wonder if it's because my mother is that ill, if he's just in need of a break from caring for her or if he's just glad to see my mother happy.

I want to ask questions about my mom's health, but I don't want to push for answers when I just got here. It would put a damper on my return, and if it's just taking her a few extra days to recover from something like the flu, it would be upsetting the apple cart for no reason.

**FRANK'S DEN**

**1900 LOCAL TIME - 2300 EASTERN TIME**

When Frank asked me to join him for an after dinner drink, I agreed, mostly because I thought that it would be the perfect opportunity to ask him about my mother in a relaxed setting, but I don't want to rush into questioning him. I don't want him to feel as if he's on trial.

"I have your mother settled in for the night, so I thought that it would be a good time for us to talk," Frank says, pulling two glasses from the shelf and placing them on top of the bar.

"I've called and said good night to the kids, so I'm free for the rest of the night. Is there something in particular that you wanted to talk about?" I ask, hoping that he's going to volunteer information about my mother's illness.

I watch as Frank pulls the stopper out of the decanter and begins to pour bourbon into the first glass.

"You started traveling our way four days ago, so how are Mac and the kids doing with you away from the house?" he asks.

"Mac said that, for the first two days, she and the kids were adjusting, but that they're pulling together and seem to be hitting their stride now, and everything's fine."

"Do you think that she's being truthful or just trying to keep you from worrying?"

"I think it's a combination. I'm not sure that everything's going as smoothly as she says, but I don't think that she's trying to be dishonest. She just doesn't want me to worry about the everyday things that I can do nothing to help with from here."

Frank is offering me one of the two glasses of bourbon, something that I haven't drunk in some time - since we discovered that Mattie was drinking heavily and I poured out mine - when he speaks.

"The plan is for you to go back and see them next month for Easter, right?"

"Yes. Though I'd like to be there for Ty's birthday, it isn't practical since it's only two weeks away. I can't even make definite plans for my trip at Easter until I start at the RLSO. I could be taking over a hell hole and not be able to get away."

"I imagine that Ty will have the hardest time dealing with this separation. Since Matthew is so much younger than he is, it leaves him the lone guy."

"True," I reply. "Sami and I are pretty close, and I can see it being hard on her, too," I add.

"If your mom is feeling well enough that I feel comfortable with being away for a few days, maybe I could fly out and spend some guy time with Ty for his birthday," Frank says as if he's expressing an idea that just popped into his head before he's has time to truly consider it.

Yes, an opening to discuss the one thing that's been weighing on my mind since I arrived earlier today.

"His birthday is still two weeks away. Shouldn't she be better by then?" I ask.

"She should be, but I don't know if I'll be ready to let her out of my sight," Frank says softly.

I think I hear fear in his voice.

"By the way, I should apologize. I meant to get your car tuned up and have it ready for you to drive when you got here, but with your mother not feeling well, I haven't wanted to leave the house," Frank says apologetically.

There is _sadness_ in his voice, and I can't stand it any longer.

"Frank, what's wrong with my mother?" I ask bluntly.

"Your mother doesn't want you to worry, so she made me promise not to tell you." He sighs. "She told me that, if you asked, I should tell you that she's going to be fine."

If she wants to keep it from me, it has to be something serious - perhaps life threatening. You don't try to cover up a bad cold or a case of the flu.

"Frank, she's my mother. Don't you think that I have a right to know what's wrong with her?" I ask, gripping my glass of bourbon tightly, hoping that I don't need to down the remaining contents in one gulp after I hear his answer.

"I've never broken a promise to your mother," he says before lifting his glass to his lips.

After he swallows a mouthful of bourbon, apparently having considered the choice that I'm asking him to make - breaking his promise to my mother or telling me - he says, "I've never been so scared. I thought that I might lose her..."

His voice is shaky as he tells me what happened last week while my family and I were on the farm.

As Frank talks, I can see the tension leave his body, and I know that Frank isn't telling me _just_ because I asked or because he thinks that I need to know. He needs to tell someone, someone who can understand what he's going through. And who better to understand than a man who's not only been in the position of being fearful of losing his wife and who can empathize with him, but a man who'd feel the loss right along with him because he would've lost her, too - her son?

**MY ROOM**

**AFTER TALKING WITH FRANK**

My head is reeling.

Frank said that he'd wanted to phone us when they knew that she'd need surgery, but my mother had told him not to because she didn't want it to put a damper on our family vacation. I was going to be here soon anyway, and the doctor had said that she'd be feeling better in a few weeks. Most people recover and are back to their usual activities in two months, which would be well before Mac and the children got here, so there was no reason to worry anyone with this little "health scare" he'd said that she'd called it.

"Oh, Mom," I say out loud in the room. "I know that you meant well, but I'm your son. You should've at least come clean with the truth when I got here."

Feeling suddenly tired, I drop onto the bed.

I need to talk to Mac.

I reach for my cell phone and start to dial the number, but three numbers in, I stop.

"I can't just spring this kind of thing on Mac, especially over the phone."

Alone in the room, I'm talking to myself.

"There isn't anything that Mac can do to help, and my mother's wishes were for no one to know," I start rationalizing as I put down my cell phone.

I stand and move towards my guitar case in the corner.

There's nothing like playing the blues while you work through your thoughts ... it's how I did things before I had Mac to use as my sounding board.

As I flip open the latches on my guitar case, I think of another reason why I shouldn't tell Mac now.

Our separation is just getting underway. I don't want her to worry that I need her when she can't be here. She doesn't need any added stress.

I need to keep this news to myself, at least until she and I are in the same room. If all goes well and I'm able to make the trip as planned, I'll tell her at Easter.


	47. Chapter 47 Part 2, Dealing With Separati

**PART TWO ****- ****My Assignment**

**MONDAY, MARCH 16, 2009**

**TYLER RABB'S CLASSROOM**

**THOMAS JEFFERSON ELEMENTARY SCHOOL**

**0849 - LOCAL / 0649 - PACIFIC**

"Your assignment for today is to write a twenty sentence story about what you did over spring break," Tyler's teacher had said ten minutes ago, and he had yet to write one single word, much less a sentence.

He didn't know what to write.

He'd gone to Gee Gee's farm, but he hadn't had the fun time that he'd had when he'd gone there the first time because, this time, there had been something in the air that had sucked the joy out of each day - every activity.

The dark gray cloud of gloom that had hung over the farm during the long weekend that they'd spent there was that, upon their return to Virginia, his dad was leaving for his next duty assignment without him.

Tyler sighed, and his shoulders slumped forward. He knew that he had to take some responsibility for the new routine that had started this morning, the first school day since his father had left for California.

Tyler glanced up from his paper and looked over at the dark-haired girl in pigtails, who had no idea that he was on the planet.

Yes, he'd voted to stay, and now that his dad had left, he was regretting his choice. It would be so easy to write a summary of what he and his family had done over his spring break if the days on the farm hadn't been overshadowed by the looming departure of his dad.

Ty sighed again, grateful that his dad wasn't going away to some foreign country that currently hated Americans. At least he wasn't worried that his dad would be in danger in San Diego.

His dad, who was nearly three thousand miles away, still provided Ty with wisdom in his hour of need as the young boy heard his dad's words, which had been spoken to him over the course of the three years that Harm had been his dad when a situation had arisen that suited it. Those words of wisdom currently reverberated through the almost ten-year-old boy's head.

Two lessons being heard the loudest were: "We will always be proud of you if you try to do your best." and "It's better to try and fail than not to try at all."

With the minutes ticking away, Tyler knew that he needed to write something, even if he didn't get twenty sentences written. An unfinished assignment was better than turning in nothing.

He picked up his pencil and put the lead tip to the lined notebook paper.

Ty drew a line straight down and then crossed it at the top and bottom.

The paper was no longer blank.

The sight of the one-letter word, "I", caused Ty's shoulders to come up a bit and his chest to puff out slightly from the accomplishment.

Even if he did still have twenty sentences to write, he'd written the first word, and that was progress.

He wanted to write 'I miss my dad', but he knew that had nothing to do with the subject about which he'd been given to write, nor did he want the teacher to think that he was being a cry-baby about his dad being away.

The next sentence that came to his mind was, 'I hate being a kid with military parents because one of them is always having to go away, but he pushed that out of his thoughts as well.

Finally, his first complete sentence appeared on the page: 'I went to Gee Gee's farm for part of my spring break'.

Then he wrote another sentence.

'Gee Gee is what my sisters and I call my dad's grandma.'

Each sentence gave him new inspiration and before he knew it, he'd written down more than he'd thought was possible when he'd heard his class assignment.

"Everyone, we have seven minutes before it's time to go to the library, so you should be putting your finishing touches on your story," his teacher announced.

It was time for Ty to count his sentences and hope that he had twenty or could come up with a few more before the time to complete the assignment ran out.

He began to read quickly through his story, looking for the period that marked the end of each sentence.

It started with the title that the teacher had written on the blackboard before she'd even given out the assignment.

"What I Did On Spring Break"

by Tyler Rabb

I went to Gee Gee's farm. Gee Gee is what my sisters and I call my dad's grandma. That makes her our great grandma. That's why we call her Gee Gee. One Gee is for the great and one Gee is for the grandma part. Her farm is in Pennsylvania. Cocoa went with us. Cocoa is my dog. Mattie came on Saturday. Mattie is my big sister. It wasn't cold there. It wasn't warm. We still needed to wear our coats. One day we got to ride on horses. That night my dad started a big fire, and we roasted hot dogs and marshmallows for dinner. That was the best night. One night Gee Gee made my favorite dinner, and we had cake and ice cream to celebrate my birthday even though it was early. We had it early because Gee Gee won't be living with us anymore, and my dad will be in California on my real birthday. Mom said that I'm going to have a party with my friends here, too. We didn't stay at the farm for all of spring break because we had to come back so that my dad could leave for California so he'd have plenty of time to get there. He'd get in trouble if he got there late.

'Twenty-one sentences, one more than I needed,' Tyler thought to himself while pride filled him at not only completing the task, but having exceeded it by one sentence before time ran out.

To be sure that he hadn't miscounted, Tyler reviewed his paper once more, double-checking to make certain that he'd met the parameters given to him for the assignment.

Satisfied that he'd counted correctly and confident that he'd done his best, given the not-so-good time that he'd had at the farm, as his teacher walked among the students, he got her attention when she came down the aisle beside his desk.

"Miss Livingston..."

"Yes, Tyler, do you have a question?"

"No, Ma'am. I'm ready to turn in my assignment," Ty said, offering her the piece of notebook paper.

"Thank you," Miss Livingston said with a smile as she took the offered paper.

**ABIGAIL RABB'S CLASSROOM**

**THOMAS JEFFERSON ELEMENTARY SCHOOL**

**SAME TIME**

"Class, before we begin our lessons today, I think we have time to hear from a few of you about what you did while you were out on the break from school."

The teacher saw many excited faces, no doubt eager to take up lesson time to talk about their vacation.

She'd been an elementary school teacher for many years, nineteen to be exact, and she'd found that, after a break of more than a few days, it was always good to have the kids talk about what they'd done over their vacation. Somehow having some of them share their experiences with the class helped to settle them down, making it easier to get back into the regular routine.

"Now, who would like to come up and tell the class about what you did on your short vacation?"

Her question caused many of the faces to go from excited to petrified at the thought of speaking in front of the whole class, but a few hands inched their way into the air, ready to brave public speaking to share their story.

The hand of one boy waved enthusiastically, eager to tell his tale. He was an average student, but very personable and outgoing, so it was no surprise to her that he'd be willing to get up in front of the class to tell his story. However, there was one student, a shy, quiet child with her hand raised high who took her by surprise - Abigail Rabb.

"Abigail, would you like to go first?" the teacher asked hesitantly.

Floored that the little girl's hand was up at all, she hoped that by letting her go first, she wouldn't have time to change her mind.

In a shy voice, Abigail responded, "Yes, please...if that's okay?"

"I'm sure it is, isn't class? We'd all like to hear about Abigail's time on spring break, wouldn't we?" the teacher said, hoping to garnish the young girl some support.

It worked, and Abigail stood and moved to the front of the class to claps and hoots from her classmates.

"That's enough encouragement," the teacher said to quiet the class so that Abigail could speak.

"Since we got out early on Friday, my parents had everything in the car when they picked up my brother and me from school, and we drove straight to Gee Gee's farm. It isn't an animal farm. She grows things there. The farm next to hers grows things and has animals, too. On Saturday, we got to ride on some of their horses. Then my daddy started a big fire, and we roasted hot dogs and marshmallows on sticks."

Abigail's teacher knows that she must have had a wonderful time with her family at the farm because she'd never seen this student so animated before today.

"My big sister, Mattie, came on Saturday. She didn't get there in time to ride the horses, but she said that it was okay because she'd had an accident and her back hurts sometimes. Since my daddy was leaving for California when we got back from Pennsylvania, that's where Gee Gee's farm is, he won't be here for Ty's - he's one of my brothers - birthday. So on Sunday, Gee Gee made him his favorite dinner, and we had cake and ice cream. Of course, that's kind of not fair because he's going to get a birthday party here with his friends, too. We didn't want to leave because we were having fun and because Gee Gee wasn't going to be coming back with us, but my daddy had to leave on Tuesday to get to San Diego before he was late, so we had to leave on Monday to come home."

"It sounds like you had a very good time on your break. Why is your daddy going to California?" Abigail's teacher asked.

"That's were he's going to work now."

Her teacher was concerned that this sweet little girl was going to be upset when she realized that her parents were splitting up, but there was no need when Abigail finished answering her question.

"We're going to move there, too, but not until summer...after school is out."

"Moving to California, now that's exciting," her teacher commented, happy that all was well with Abigail's family.

Abigail's teacher wanted to give other children time to speak, but she was so pleased to see Abigail coming out of her shell that she didn't want to cut her off when she was obviously in the mood to talk.

"Is there anything else that you want to tell us about your trip, Abigail?" her teacher asked.

Abigail thought hard for a moment.

She really wanted to tell them that her daddy had taken her to his thinking spot, but he'd told her that she and Momma were the only girls to ever get to go up into the hayloft, so it had to be a secret just between them that he'd shown her the view from up there.

Daddy had told her that it might hurt her brother's feelings if he knew that he'd brought her to their 'guy place'. So she couldn't tell her class because she'd promised her daddy that she wouldn't tell anyone.

"We did lots of stuff, but I can't think of anything else that was super fun."

"Very well then, Abigail. Please take your seat. Who wants to address the class next?"

Hands went into the air, and after surveying their owners, the teacher called on one of them to come up and tell their story.

**INSIDE THE RLSO BUILDING**

**SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA **

**0720 - LOCAL / 1020 - EASTERN**

Though things wouldn't be official until Friday, the staff had been informed that the incoming CO would be arriving this morning, by 0800.

The staff had started arriving at 0700. No one wanted to risk making a bad first impression by being late on the new CO's first day, official or not.

For some, a new CO meant that previous miscues could be put behind them and they'd get a fresh start to prove themselves.

Most of the staff were resigned to the fact that it didn't matter what the new CO was like because they'd be stuck with him until either his time for rotation came up or, in most cases, theirs did.

However, there was one lieutenant on staff who'd begun to get nervous the moment that word had come down about who their new CO was going to be, and as the day had drawn closer, he'd been having trouble sleeping.

This morning, he was downing coffee to shed any outward appearances of his lack of sleep.

He looked at the clock. It was 0720.

He'd know in less than an hour if Captain Rabb would be open to him as an attorney and not see him as the petty officer that he'd been when he'd been a yeoman for the former Commander Rabb's CO at HQ.

Standing in the men's room washing his sweaty palms, Jason Tiner reminded himself that Commander Rabb had once allowed him to oppose Roberts in a mock trail, which had been used as a tool for trial preparation. Surely he wouldn't have done that if he hadn't been supportive of his desire to become an attorney.

Tiner dried his hands on a paper towel, feeling more at ease at the memory. Now, if his new-found confidence could only last until he came face-to-face with his new CO...

As Tiner headed back across the bullpen to his desk, Lt. Commander Joshua Allen stood leaning against the jam of his office door, looking as cool as a cucumber while he waited for the new CO to make his appearance.

"Tiner!"

"Yes, Sir," Tiner replied.

"I spoke to a friend of mine who worked under Rabb in London ... says he runs a tight ship. I guess that means that you'll still be working the small cases."

There was an air of superiority in his voice.

It was warranted in the sense that Allen was a senior attorney on staff and the outgoing CO's first choice for all the important cases.

Golden boy Allen was about to meet the man who Admiral Chegwidden had once told the now lieutenant was the "best damned JAG lawyer that he'd ever known," and that was high praise coming from the admiral.

The idea of the two forces, Allen and Rabb, coming face-to-face, caused the corners of Tiner's mouth to turn up, teasing a smile, but not enough to hint at what the overconfident Allen was in store for with the new CO.

"Maybe, as the new CO, he'll throw me a decent case so that I can get my feet wet," Tiner commented, hoping that even if Captain Rabb advised him on a case of some substance - hell, he'd sit second chair to the captain on a big case if it would help him prove his skills - he'd be able to get into the courtroom instead of working cases dealing with shoplifting from the Exchange, which were usually settled when the accused had claimed that it had been an accident and had paid for the merchandise.

It wasn't that those weren't real cases. They just weren't the type of cases that had made him want to be a JAG lawyer. He wanted the big cases like the ones that Rabb and MacKenzie had been assigned during the time when they'd all served at HQ.

"Keep dreaming, Tiner. Little fish get little cases."

This time the grin on Allen's face was arrogant, and it made Tiner want to show him that if he wasn't a better attorney, he was a better human being ... but would he get the chance with Rabb as his CO or would the captain see Petty Officer Tiner, yeoman, when he looked at him, and give him office work worthy of the last position that he'd held or the same mundane cases that he'd been doing since he'd arrived at this command?

"If you'll excuse me, I have work to do," Tiner said, moving past Allen to get to his desk.

**OUTSIDE**

**REGIONAL LEGAL SERVICES OFFICE**

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**0730 - LOCAL / 1030 - EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

'I'd have to say that I'd been looking forward to being reunited with my classic Corvette. However, I didn't remember her being so confining.'

'I guess I've gotten used to the roominess of my SUV,' I think as I get out of my car and stretch. Perhaps it isn't that but that I'm not as limber as I could be since I haven't exercised in several days. At the farm, it seemed unnecessary with all the activities that I was doing with the children, and at home, packing and spending as much time with the family as possible took priority over exercise for me.

'Tomorrow I'll get back into my workout routine with a run on the beach,' I tell myself as I reach over to grab my briefcase off the seat.

I might have been better prepared if I'd driven my 'Vette over the weekend, but when I arrived on Friday afternoon, my mother looked pale as if she were ill. Though she told me that she was fine, I'd stayed at their home to keep an eye on her.

I spent time with my mother, acclimating to the time change and unpacking to make sure that my uniforms had maintained a proper military crease rather than going out driving around town in my 'Vette.

However, I did find time to check under the hood and fire her up to make sure that she was in good running order and I looked forward to driving her to work this morning.

I take a deep calming breath in preparation because I don't know what awaits me inside. Good environment, bad staff, a building that's falling down around us, but an excellent staff - there are so many variables to what I might encounter when I take command that I need to be prepared for the absolute worst, which is bad everything.

Spring and the saltiness of the sea is all I smell on this clear day as I set my sights on the doors at the front of the building.

**INSIDE**

**REGIONAL LEGAL SERVICES OFFICE**

**SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA**

"Attention on deck!"

The order echoes through the large room that I can tell is the bullpen from the desks scattered around.

So much for sneaking in early and getting a look before I officially take command.

"As you were," I bark, wanting to draw as little attention to myself as possible at the moment.

I know that I was expected, but I'd really hoped to stay under the radar until the change of command ceremony.

Looking around the room as the staff returns to their previous duties, I see a familiar face in the crowd.

Though I'll want to evaluate the legal abilities of each of the attorneys myself by sitting in the courtroom or asking questions during staff meetings to test their knowledge of the law, I find it nice to know that I have someone who can give me the inside track on the movers and shakers, and those who are dead weight.

However, it might be awkward and create a problem for him with his colleagues if I acknowledge him the moment I walk in the door, and I also don't want to give away my edge, so I don't address Tiner directly, but I do make brief eye contact with him.

Hopefully, he saw it as the 'hello, we'll talk later' nod that I intended it to be.

"Captain Rabb?" a young man says as if he's asking me if he has the right person.

"Yes, Petty Officer..." I look down to see if I can read his name plate.

"Howard, Sir," he supplies for me. "I'll be your yeoman, Sir."

"Very good, Petty Officer Howard. Let's get to it."

"Yes, Sir."

**0830 - LOCAL**

The official change of command ceremony isn't until Friday morning, so my duties here are limited until then, giving me plenty of time to take a tour of the place, checking out where the head and break rooms are, then I can settle into my temporary office space with a cup of coffee and begin to meet some of the staff in a more relaxed way by inviting them to speak with me in my office.

My first two meetings are with my two senior attorneys, Lt. Commander Allen and a Marine, Major Shelby.

By seeing them in rank order, I'll get around to seeing Lieutenant Tiner, but without raising suspicions that he and I have previously met. It isn't information that anyone needs to know, especially since I'm familiar with Petty Officer Tiner's work, but not with the skills of the lawyer that he is now.

**BEDROOM**

**BURNETT HOME**

**LA JOLLA, CA**

**1900 - LOCAL / 2300 - EASTERN**

My cell phone rings, and a quick check of the caller ID brings a smile to my face.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, Mrs. Rabb?" I inquire, not the least bit upset to hear from her.

"I was thinking about you...and your mother. When you called earlier to say good night to the children, I couldn't ask if your mother was looking better. Our children would be worried about their grandmother if they heard me ask."

I thought that telling Mac that my mother was looking tired and pale would be giving her enough information so that she wouldn't be shocked or accuse me of keeping something important from her. Now hearing the worry in her voice, I'm thinking that I may not have chosen the best course of action. However, with the worst part apparently behind her, I still don't think that I should tell my wife how serious my mother's health scare was over the phone. I'll wait until I'm there at Easter to explain.

"Mom still looks a little pale, but she says that she's fine. She also knows that I don't believe her and that's why I decided to take her up on her offer to stay here instead of checking into the BOQ."

"Have you talked to Frank and asked him what's wrong with her?" Mac asks, her voice full of concern.

"Frank said that he's under strict orders from my mother not to tell me, but he did assure me that she's going to be fine," I say to reassure her.

"Why wouldn't she want you to know?" she asks in a tone that's a mix of concern and confusion.

"I asked Frank that, and his answer didn't surprise me. He told me that, even though I'm a grown man, I'm still her son, and she worries about me. In her opinion, dealing with being separated from my family and starting at a new command is enough for me to worry about right now, and that when she feels that the time is right, she'll tell me herself.

"I think you should ask him again," Mac states firmly. "Tell him that not knowing what's wrong is more worrisome to you than knowing ... that keeping you in the dark makes you think that she's suffering from something really serious," Mac advises me.

"I shouldn't have told you that she didn't look well. Now you're worrying, too, and you already have your hands full."

"I know that you don't want to press them if they don't want you to know, but please ask Frank or your mother again. Tell them that I'm worried if you think it'll help."

"I'll ask again, but in a few days. If she isn't feeling well, I don't want to upset her."

"Good point, and I know that you're worried so I won't pester you about it, but if you find out something, please let me know."

"I will."

"How was your first day at RLSO?" she asks, and I know that asking about my day is her way of keeping me on the phone longer, not just because she's worried about my mother, but because she's having trouble falling asleep without me there.

"Let's see ... if the first day is any indication, I think I'll do well here. My two senior attorneys, ironically enough, are one Navy male and a female Marine. I also have a Lieutenant, Jason Tiner, who asked about you today ... wanted to know if we keep in touch," I say with a laugh.

"What did you tell him?"

"I said that I spoke to you often."

I hear her soft laughter coming through the phone, and I suddenly miss her more.

"Did you ever tell him that we're married or did you think that it would be fun to let him figure it out when he noticed our wedding photo on your desk or I drop by to have lunch with you?"

"I started not to tell him, but I noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring. I asked him how long he'd been married, and that opened the door for him to inquire about the woman who'd put a ring on my finger, and I confessed that it was you."

"Tiner's married? Oh my gosh, did you get a look at a picture of her?" Mac asks with a squeal, and I'm transported back to high school when the girls had to get a look at a guy friend's girl to see if she met with their approval. I didn't get it then and I don't get the reason why now, especially since, though I know Tiner, I wouldn't exactly call him my friend.

"No, I didn't, but I'll make it my mission to swing by his desk tomorrow to see if I can get a look at a picture of her," I reply with sarcasm.

"Did you ask if he has any children?"

"I did, and the answer is no... and before you ask, they've been married a year - thirteen months, actually... and yes, you could've knocked him over with a feather when I told him that the Roberts' were up to four children and that you and I have six."

"You didn't say it like that, did you? He might think that something inappropriate happened between us after he was gone."

"I explained that I'd taken on guardianship of a teenager before we married, who became daughter number one. Then, because we got a late start, we thought that adoption was the way to go, but that we'd also been blessed with two of our own, so in total we had six."

"Was it a big shock to his system to find out that confirmed bachelor Harm was married and had children?" she asks.

"I don't know about shocked, but he certainly seemed surprised that _we'd_ married and built such a large family in less than four years."

"We have been busy, haven't we?" she asks like a question, but I believe that it's meant to be a rhetorical one.

"If you don't have any more questions about my day, I think that I should say good night to you so that you can get some sleep."

"I miss you," she purrs.

"I miss you, too. In fact, I know that we celebrated Ty's birthday early at the farm, but I was thinking that, since my assignment here is off to a good start, maybe I could get away and fly out to surprise Ty at his birthday party. What do you think?"

"Though I'd love to see you and I know that Ty would be over-the-moon that you were here for his birthday party, I think that it would make it harder on him ... all of the children when you had to leave again. With travel time to and from the airport, arrival time to clear security and flying time, you'd get here just in time to turn around and be gone again."

"I'd be there for his party, and for you and me to get a good night's sleep. Besides, I could have your French toast in the morning before I'd have to leave." I know that she's right, but I also really miss my family and hope that she'll change her mind, which no matter how unreasonable an idea it might be, if she said yes, I'd be calling to book my flight tomorrow.

Who am I kidding? I'd be online tonight to book my trip.

"A night sleeping next to you ... you sure know how to tempt a girl, but -"

"I know," I say, cutting her off. I knew that it wasn't really a good idea, but I had to put the idea out there. "I love you."

"I love you," she responds.

"We need to get off this phone so that you can get some sleep."

"Promise me that it'll get easier to say good night to you."

"I can't do that because I can only hope that it will," I say in just above a whisper.

I hear her sigh on the other end of the phone.

"I'll call and talk to you and the kids tomorrow night," I say lovingly.

Trying to be strong for both of us, I say, "Good night, Mac."

"Good night, Harm."

As I ended the call with her, I swear that I heard tears in her voice when she spoke last and I wish that my assignment hadn't moved me to the opposite coast.

My chest tightens because I'm realizing that getting through the next three months of living apart is going to be harder on us than I think either one of us believed that it would be.


	48. Chapter 48 Part 3 - Dealing With Separat

**PART THREE - Missing Dad**

**SATURDAY, MARCH 28, 2009 **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1247 - LOCAL / 0947 - PACIFIC TIME**

**MATTIE'S POV**

"Your guests will be arriving soon. Are you getting excited about your birthday party yet?" I ask Ty.

"No, because this isn't going to be a good birthday party," he replies in a flat tone.

"Hey, how do you know that? The party hasn't even started yet."

"I know because Dad isn't going to be here," he says with sadness in his voice, but it's the look in his eyes that's heartbreaking.

"It isn't because he doesn't want to be here. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

I feel badly for my brother. The only thing that he wants for his birthday is for his dad to be here, and that isn't going to happen.

I wish that there was something that I could do to cheer him up.

"Did you know that I talk to Dad every Wednesday?" I ask.

He responds with a negative shake of his head.

"Well, since he's been in California, I've been talking to him every week, and we talked about your party this week. That's how I know that he really wanted to be here with you...because he told me."

"He could be here if he really wanted to be. He's a captain, and that means that he tells people what to do. So he could just tell them to do their work while he was away so that he could be here for my party."

Oh, I hope that I explain this right. My knowledge of military hierarchy is limited, but I think that if I have to leave the room to ask Mom if I'm getting it right, I'll lose credibility with Ty, and that isn't good, especially now when he appears to be already in a distrusting frame of mind.

"It's true that Dad outranks a lot of people, but even he has a boss...someone who tells him what to do. So just because he's a captain doesn't mean that he can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. If he did, then there wouldn't be the good order and discipline that he's so proud of in the Navy. Do you understand?"

"I think so...even Dad has rules to follow, and that means that he can't come to my birthday party," Ty replies.

"Sounds like you've got the right idea." I find myself pulling him into an embrace. I don't know if he needs it, but _I_ seem to have a need to hug him. "I know that having Dad here would make your day better, but you know what Dad would say, 'Make the best of the cards you're dealt'." I release him and bend to look him in the eye. "I know that we don't like to think about it, at least I don't, but it wasn't that long ago when you and I were in a foster home. So, though one of them can't be here right now, we've got it pretty good because we have parents who love us a lot."

"When you put it like that, I know that you're right, but it's still going to be hard to have fun at my party without Dad here."

"I know, but think about Mom. She worked really hard to put this party together for you. Now, she wouldn't want you to pretend that you're feeling something that you aren't, but I think that you owe it to her to at least _try_ to have a good time, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think so, too," Ty answers.

"I'm going to go see if Mom needs help with anything before your guests start to arrive, okay?"

"Okay," he answers.

I turn to leave the room, but he calls, "Mattie," which causes me to turn around.

"What does Dad have to be in order to make the rules?" he asks.

"President," I answer, pretty sure that's why they call him the commander in chief.

His mouth takes on the shape of 'oh', but no sound comes out, and I leave him in the living room to give him time to think about everything that we've talked about before any guests arrive.

**1600 - LOCAL / 1300 - PACIFIC TIME**

**MAC'S POV**

"Thanks for staying to help clean up, Harriet," I say, thankful for the company of another adult - even though Mattie is one technically, she's still one of the children to me - and happy that she's such a close friend. What makes it better is that she's a sailor's wife who can relate to being separated from her spouse like I am at the moment.

"No, problem. I'm glad to help out. I just wish that the party had cheered up Ty more than it did," Harriet comments.

"Me, too, but he did have a few moments when I thought that he might actually snap out of it. I heard him laugh during one of Jack's pirate stories, he actually looked happy when he saw his cake and he seemed really excited when Harm called and spoke only to him to wish him a Happy Birthday. I thought that he might actually have a fun day today, but as soon as the story was over, he'd blown out the candles, or he'd said goodbye to his dad, the spark of happiness that I'd seen in his eyes was gone again."

"He really misses his dad," Harriet says, though I'm not sure if she thinks that she's informing me of the reason for my son's mood or merely stating the obvious.

"He isn't the only one," I say with a sigh.

"How are you holding up?" Harriet asks.

"It's been only..." my voice trails off.

I don't want to think about how many nights it's been since he's shared my bed or we've kissed. Counting the days that we've been apart seems to increase the loneliness. Counting the days until we see each other is a much better way to deal with the separation.

"He'll be here for a visit in fourteen days," I say cheerfully, the thought that his arrival is just two weeks away making me feel happier.

"Speaking of which, would you like to come over and have Easter dinner with us?" Harriet offers.

"Thank you for the invitation, but since Harm is going to be here for only three days, I think that he'll want to stay pretty close to home."

"I understand completely, but if you change your mind, let me know. We'd love to have you join us, and we wouldn't be offended if you came just for dinner. Bud and I understand that Harm wants to spend as much time with his family as he can while he's here...but do either of you really want to spend a lot of time in the kitchen cooking a holiday meal?"

"I haven't put any thought into a holiday meal menu. I guess now I'll have something to focus on for the next few days. Then I wonder what I'll do?"

"Bored at home?" Harriet asks.

"Not bored, just ... I love my kids, but..." I can't seem to find the words to explain.

"...But you have needs..."

I feel my body tense at the thought that she wants to discuss my love life, or more accurately my lack there of, and it isn't something that I want to talk about, not even with my oldest and closet - if I don't count Harm - friend.

"I always thought that being a wife and mother was something that I was meant to be, but I have to say that, when the job with Giving Thanks was offered to me, I was elated," Harriet continues.

My posture relaxes now that I know that she isn't talking about sex.

"I missed feeling ... I'm not sure what the right word is, but useful kind of describes it. Your family fulfills you in some ways but not in every way, at least not for me. I had a career in the Navy and had pride in doing a job and doing it well. I found that I was happy and content to stay at home, but as the babies got a little older and needed me less, it wasn't the same. I wasn't happy, at least not in the same way that I am now that I have my precious children _and_ a career again."

Harriet stops only long enough to take a breath.

"Saying it out loud, it sounds selfish, but I can't help it. I want it all," Harriet says, continuing to explain.

"A good man, a good career and comfortable shoes, lots and lots of them," I mutter, but Harriet hears and understands me.

"Yes," she says, sounding a little surprised. Maybe she thought that she was the only one who felt that way.

"Now don't get me wrong. I don't regret my decision to leave the Navy. A career where there was a possibility that I could be out at sea for six months at a time was no longer the job for me, and I needed the time that I took with Bud, the boys and the twins, but there came a time when I needed something more," Harriet says, completing her thought.

"I don't regret retiring. It was the right thing for me and my family, but I'm feeling ... " My voice trails off as I search for the right word. "...restless now. I know that part of it has to do with Harm and me living apart, but I also know that in the past when I was missing him, I had work to keep me busy. Not that taking care of kids isn't work, but it isn't the same kind of work. It doesn't offer me the same rewards as working a case."

"Are you trying to tell me that you're going to go back to being a working attorney?" Harriet asks.

"I'd like to, but now isn't a good time. I'm not licensed to practice law in California, and though I could represent someone in a military proceeding, it's probably not a good idea when my husband is the CO of the regional legal services office there."

"Then are you going to look for work as an attorney here?" Harriet inquires.

Her tone indicates that she's concerned about my marriage.

"No, Harriet. You saw Tyler today. He misses his dad. They all miss him. I couldn't keep them here while Harm is in California."

"...And you miss him, too?" Harriet says like a question.

"Yes, very much," I say with a sigh.

Relief washes over my friend's face as she realizes that Harm and I have a solid marriage and that I have no desire to live anywhere that he isn't, at least not on a permanent basis.

"I should tell you that my desire to do something more with my life, to be someone other than Bud's wife and AJ, Jimmy and the twin's mother didn't go away. It just grew as my children got older, so I don't think that you should ignore how you're feeling," Harriet comments, and I know that she's concerned about my happiness.

"Patty is still too young for me to feel comfortable leaving her care to someone else, so though I've given some thought to studying to take the California Bar exam to practice there, it isn't a practical option since, by the time I study and pass the Bar and feel comfortable with leaving Patty with someone or she's old enough to start school, Harm may not be stationed in California."

"That's true," Harriet acknowledges.

"What I need is something that gives me that sense of self ... of having my own identity that I don't get from being a wife and mother ... something that could fill some of my time, but not be too demanding ... something that I could sink my teeth into, but not be too stressful. If it were the _perfect_ job, it would be something that I could do from home so it wouldn't matter what city or country I was living in either," I say, musing out loud.

"That would be the perfect job," Harriet agrees. "So it probably doesn't exist."

"Probably not," I agree, feeling dejected.

"So what are you going to do?" Harriet asks.

"For now... focus my attention on my children, the menu for Easter and moving to California. Once I'm there ... I don't know, but hopefully inspiration will strike or opportunity will knock, and I'll just know what it is that I want to do with the rest of my life."

"Overachiever ... I'd settle for knowing what I want to do for the next few years, and here you want to go and decide what to do with the rest of your life."

We both laugh, and then our conversation turns to more casual topics until my house is turned back into it's pre-party condition and it's time for Harriet to return to her own home.

**HARM'S ROOM  
BURNETT RESIDENCE**

**LA JOLLA, CA**

**1930 - LOCAL / 2230 - EASTERN TIME**

**HARM'S POV**

Mac is running the daily operations of the Rabb household by herself right now, and if she's gotten every one to bed on time, she may be asleep, too.

I should let her sleep, but I'm concerned about our son.

Ty didn't sound like an excited boy in the middle of his birthday party, which is when I called, nor did he even sound like his usual self.

I'd told myself after I'd ended my special birthday call to Ty that perhaps I was reading too much into his tone or that I was completely off base, and the reason for his strange behavior was because he didn't want to rush me off the phone, but that he was anxious to get back to_ his _party.

However, my concern returned later in the day after my parents mentioned to me that Tyler didn't sound like himself.

They'd called after Ty's party was over to apologize for not being able to attend and to wish him happy birthday again, along with making sure that Ty had received their card containing some cash and letting Ty know that Frank had already purchased season tickets to the Padres baseball games for them as part of his present, too.

When I called to say good night a few hours ago, Ty sounded fine, but as I've been sitting here on my bed reading case update reports, the thought that since I spoke to all the children during that call, maybe I didn't speak with Ty long enough for me to get a sense of his mood.

Maybe I'm projecting my sadness at not being there for my son's birthday party into the situation.

Perhaps Ty's mood was because he was upset by something that happened at his party... like one of his guests didn't show up.

I can't take it any longer and I reach for my cell phone.

I need to know if he's okay, and, if he isn't, if Mac thinks that there's anything that I can do to help cheer him up from here.

After three rings, I'm about to hang up. She must be asleep. I'll call her first thing in the morning when I know that she'll be awake feeding Patty but the other kids will still be asleep. Then she'll be free to talk about what, if anything, is going on with our son, Tyler.

"Hello, Harm," she answers in a sultry voice, distracting me.

There's silence for a long moment.

"Harm, I know it's you. Well, to be more precise, Counselor, I know that it's either you or someone calling from your phone."

I find my voice.

"Yeah, Mac, it's me. Sorry, I was just about to hang up, so you caught me off guard when you answered."

'That sounded legitimate, didn't it?' I wonder, hoping that I don't have to confess that the way that she answered my call momentarily sent my mind in a different direction.

"If you say so," she says with a lilt in her voice that tells me that she doesn't believe me, but that she isn't going to call me on it either.

"I hope that I didn't wake you, but something's bothering me and I wanted to ask you about it."

"You didn't wake me, so what's on your mind, Sailor?"

First, she answers the phone that way and then she calls me sailor. What is she trying to do to me? She knows what that does to me, or at least the way that she says that one word gets to me. Of course, two weeks apart means that it doesn't take much to get my mind going in that direction.

"It's Ty. Is he okay?" I ask, keeping myself on point.

"He's fine," she answers, but not convincingly. "What makes you ask?"

"He just sounded like he was feeling a little down when I spoke to him during his party. I brushed the idea aside figuring that he was probably just antsy to get back to his guests. However, when mom and Frank told me that he didn't sound like himself, much less like a birthday boy when they spoke to him, I thought maybe there was more to it. I was wondering if maybe something had happened during his party that might have upset him, or maybe that there was a last minute cancellation by someone who he really wanted to be there."

**MAC'S POV**

How do I not lie but not make Harm feel badly because, if Ty sounded down, it was only because his dad wasn't here.

"Everyone who we were expecting showed up, and nothing out of the ordinary happened during the party," I reply.

"Do you think that my parents and I are off base with getting the impression that something is up with him or did he seem down to you?"

"Harm..." It's a false start because I just don't know what to say to answer his question.

"Mac, what is it? If something is happening there, I need to know what it is?" He sounds so concerned, and I know that I have to be honest with him.

"Harm, you and your parents aren't wrong. Ty was feeling down today, but he was doing better this evening."

"Do you know why he was upset?" Harm asks.

"I'm pretty sure that I do, and I think that you know why, too." I just can't bring myself to say it.

**HARM'S POV**

She didn't have to say it directly, but from what she did say, I know the reason.

"...Because I wasn't there." I say with a sigh, realizing that she wasn't trying to beat around the bush, but was protecting my feelings.

"Yes..." she confirms. "...but, Harm, he understands why you weren't here. Since you haven't missed one of his birthdays since we started moving forward with his adoption, not having you here was just hard on him today."

"I knew that I should have made the trip back there for his birthday!"

"You are _not_ to feel guilty about not being here. This is something that happens in military families, and though he didn't like not having you here today, overall, he and our other children are dealing with the separation pretty well."

"Are you sure or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"They, of course, miss you, but yes, I'm sure. Though I'm also equally sure that each of them have days when it's harder than others, they're all doing okay - really."

I don't know if I can believe her, but she certainly sounds sincere.

"Harm, you know how I feel about our children. If I thought that they were in distress emotionally from being separated from you when they didn't have to be, we wouldn't still be here."

With the addition of her last statement, I believe that she's being truthful and that she and the children are fine.

"Is it wrong of me to wish that they weren't doing well so that you'd be packing right now instead of being on the phone with me?"

"Yes, but at the same time, it's sort of sweet of you to say it."

Her voice is soft, and it does help to improve my mood, but it doesn't ease how much I miss her and our children.

"God, I miss you," I say in a hushed whisper, not intending for her to hear.

"I'm sure that you're tired with the extra work of the birthday party today, so I'm going to say good night now and let you get to bed."

"Two weeks from now, we won't be saying good night over the phone, Sailor."

"No, we won't, and I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too. Good night, Harm."

"Good night, Mac."

After ending our call, I return my attention to the reports that I'd been reading and find it easier to concentrate on them until I decide that I'm ready to turn in and try to get some sleep.


	49. Chapter 49 - Part 4 - Dealing With Sepa

**PART FOUR - Easter Weekend Begins**

**THURSDAY, APRIL 9, 2009 **

**SAN DIEGO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT**

**SAN DIEGO, CA **

**1925 LOCAL - 2225 EASTERN**

Harm stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

He was growing impatient as the ticket agent tapped the keys on her keyboard.

Though he missed his family, just seeing them wasn't his only reason for wanting to get to Virginia as soon as possible. It was Mac. When he'd called the last few nights, she'd sounded tired, not just having a busy day 'mom tired', but _too_ tired.

He'd been gone for a month and he could understand that being both mom and dad to their five young children was taxing her energy, and he needed to get there to give her a break, let her rest.

With Patty teething, he knew that Mac would appreciate the relief that he could provide when he got there, even if it were only a few hours earlier than had been planned. However, he wondered if luck was going to be on his side in catching an earlier flight since the holiday weekend for some people started tomorrow on Good Friday.

He'd booked a flight for late afternoon tomorrow, but when the VIP meeting that was supposed to have taken place in his office in the morning had been rescheduled for Wednesday, well after the holiday, it had presented him with the opportunity to get home sooner. Now he just needed an available seat on an earlier flight.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but there're no direct flights to Dulles tonight, and the one flight that would take you as far as Atlanta is fully booked," the woman in her mid-thirties and single said apologetically.

"Are there _any_ flights headed east this evening?" Harm asked.

He'd prefer a flight that landed in Dulles, but he'd take anything as long as it was moving him east and making him feel like he was making progress.

"Let me check," she said as she smiled flirtatiously. He was, without a doubt, the best looking man whom she'd ever had the pleasure of serving at her counter.

After a few more keystrokes, the ticket agent said, "I could get you on a flight to Las Vegas that leaves in an hour. ... Sorry, that won't work for you because there are no flights leaving there for Dulles tonight," she informed him.

Seeing the disappointment register on his face at her news made her heart sink for purely selfish reasons. This customer was a hunk out of her league, but maybe if she helped him get to his destination early, he'd be grateful enough that she might get a date out of it.

"Let me see what I can do," she cooed.

Her fingers started tapping on her keyboard once more.

"Are you going to the East Coast to see family?" she asked as she waited for a potential flight solution to display itself on the screen, but it was more than filling the time with small talk. It was fishing for answers.

Harm had seen what he thought was the twinkle of interest in the woman's eyes when he'd stepped up to the counter, and he wasn't above using that against her, meaning that he saw no reason to be specific with his answer and mention his wife and children.

"I'm going to see friends and family for the holiday," Harm replied, flashing her a patented Rabb smile, the one that usually got him what he wanted with a woman, or at least it had before a certain Marine had entered his life.

"Have you been away from the East long?" she asked, trying not to melt under his gaze.

"Not long this time, only a month."

"Let's see..." she said, forcing herself to break eye contact with the handsome stranger to look at her screen.

"I can get you to LAX tonight," she said, looking up from her screen. "Now, I know that isn't east..." she said before letting out a girlish giggle. "However, we have flight restrictions here that keep jets from taking off or landing after eleven, but LAX has no such limitations, so it certainly increases your odds of being able to find a flight headed east tonight from there."

"Is there any way that you could book flights for me that would take me from here to LA and then through to my destination?"

He knew that she could if she wanted to, so it was his job to make sure that she wanted to, and being a man in need usually did the trick. He'd just leave the flirting part out of the story if Mac asked him how he'd managed to get his ticket changed at the last minute.

"If there are seats available, I can, but if you're going to be left flying stand-by, then all I'll be able to do is get you to LAX tonight."

She forced herself to break eye contact with him. He had such beautiful eyes that it made it hard for her to concentrate, but maintaining her professionalism, she managed the task and turned her attention to the screen on the counter.

"All the direct flights from LAX to Dulles are fully booked. However, I could book you from there to Phoenix, then on to Atlanta, and finally arriving at Dulles at 10:47am. That's eastern time, of course."

"Of course," Harm said, sounding as disappointed as he felt that it would take him twelve hours of travel time when the flight time was five and a half hours. However, he'd be there well before his flight tomorrow was even scheduled to take off.

"Wait!" she said excitedly as if she'd just discovered that she was holding a winning lottery ticket. "I didn't see it before! We have a flight leaving for Dallas/Fort Worth in just under an hour, and there's room for you on a flight from there to Dulles that's scheduled to land there at 5:35am."

Pleased with herself and still hoping that he'd at least ask for her number, she beamed a smile at him. Though she wasn't supposed to give it out while on duty, he was so fine that she was willing to risk the consequences if he asked her to give it to him.

He was smiling brightly in return, but not out of interest in her. It was in gratitude for her assistance in getting him home quickly.

"I'll take it!"

"I'll need your ID to book your flights."

He pulled his driver's license from his wallet and offered it to her.

She took the requested ID and compared the vision in front of her to the picture on his license. Then, not being able to suppress her curiosity, she checked the height listed. Sure enough, it wasn't her imagination. He _was_ tall.

"Any bags to check?" she asked as she continued to focus on getting his information typed into the system.

"No," he replied.

"Then I'm almost done here, Mr. Rabb." His name flowed from between her lips and it left her mouth dry. His name, Harmon Rabb, somehow suited him and made him even more appealing to her.

She efficiently placed three slips of paper inside a paper folder, taking care that the first one to be used was protruding slightly from beneath the top edge.

"Here are your boarding passes," she said as she placed the paper folder and his license on the counter. "Your flight to Dallas/Fort Worth leaves from Gate 28 and will begin boarding twenty minutes before departure time, so you'll want to head there or you might not make it through security in time to catch your flight."

"You're an angel. Thank you," he said with a wink before scooping up his boarding passes and license.

She smiled as she admired the view of his backside as he walked away. He'd made her day and, whether he knew it or not, he'd be the object of her fantasies for the foreseeable future.

**FRIDAY, APRIL 10, 2009 **

**NURSERY**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0348 LOCAL**

Mac held her baby up to her shoulder, rubbing her back the way one does to burp a baby, hoping to soothe her back to sleep, but the child continued to cry.

"I know, baby. I know. You don't feel good," Mac said in a calming voice as she walked the floor with Patty, rubbing her hand over her back.

Patty's late night wailing had been commonplace for the last week, but it had reached new heights on Tuesday when she'd begun to wake not once or twice, but every few hours during the night. It had been the increasing intensity and frequency of Patty's cries that had caused Mac to be concerned enough to take her to see the doctor on Wednesday.

Mac's maternal instinct had been right. Teething alone hadn't been the cause of the almost seven-month-old's discomfort. Complicating matters was the fact that Patty had an ear infection.

"I know you don't feel well, but you need your rest to get better, and Momma could use a few hours of sleep so that she doesn't look like death warmed over when we pick up Daddy at the airport."

Even when Patty had been a premature newborn and waking every few hours, Mac hadn't been this exhausted. Of course, that's because she'd had help then, and this time she was alone to tend to her crying baby, but that was about to change. They were only a few hours into it, but today was Friday, and that meant that Harm would be home tomorrow.

Mac hoped that the medication that Patty was taking would help her to feel better so that they could both get some rest tonight. Otherwise, Mac feared that she'd be too tired to enjoy seeing her husband.

After walking the length of the nursery three more times, Mac placed the once again sleeping baby into her crib.

Patty started to stir, but her mother's hand gently rubbing her tummy was enough to still her.

After a long moment of staring down at her baby girl, Mac stepped away from the crib.

Patty again started to stir.

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not even going to make it out of the room before you wake up again?" Mac questioned out loud.

Opting to wait a few minutes before returning to her room in case the baby awoke, Mac, too exhausted to stand up for another minute, sat down in the old rocking chair, waiting for the cries that she was sure that Patty was going to start any second. Besides, just the thought of walking the hall between the master bedroom and nursery again made her weary, and she didn't want to have to turn around and make the trip again.

**0717**

It wasn't like the Rabb children to be awake before their mom or dad woke them, but today was different. Their excitement was building for tomorrow when their dad was coming home...and, if having dad coming home wasn't enough, today was a teacher's work day, so there was no school, making today the start of their holiday weekend.

The holiday ... that explained why their mother hadn't wakened them. She was letting them sleep in as part of their vacation.

**KITCHEN**

**0720**

Waking without being rousted, Ty, Abigail and Sami assumed that their mother would be in the kitchen and made their way there to find that she wasn't sipping coffee and enjoying some quiet moments before they were up.

"I wonder where Mommy is?" Sami questioned.

Ty scanned the room, looking for clues as to her whereabouts.

Concern filled him when he noticed that there wasn't any coffee made. The pot was empty.

Not wanting to let on about his concern to his younger sisters but wanting to find their mother, Ty handed out assignments.

"Sami, you go see if Momma's in her room. Abigail, you go see if she's in the nursery. I'll go see if she's in the den."

The den might seem like a strange place to check, but Tyler knew that his mom liked to go in there and sit in Dad's chair when the house was quiet, like very late at night or early in the morning.

"Check the room that you were assigned and then report back here to tell the rest of us if you found her," Ty said with a no-nonsense tone of authority.

Ty sounded a lot like his dad did when he passed out work instructions when they were helping to cook a meal or do a similar task that required them to work together.

**0723 **

Tyler might have been the one in charge of his younger siblings when the three of them had been in the position of not knowing where their mother was in the house, but a battle for control would begin when the three of them returned to the kitchen.

Abigail Rabb might be the demure one of the Rabb brood, but that shouldn't be taken as weakness.

"Momma's asleep in the rocking chair in the nursery, and we are _not_ going to wake her," Abigail announced to her siblings. "I'll make us breakfast."

"No you won't. I'm the oldest, so I'll make us something to eat," Ty stated firmly to his sister.

"No, I'm going to make breakfast." Abigail lobbed back. Her stance and face were stiff with determination to win this fight.

"I'm waking up Mommy," Sami said as she turned to leave the room.

Not breaking eye contact as they continued to be locked in their battle of wills, Abigail and Ty snapped in unison, "No you won't!"

"Don't you move another muscle, Sami," Ty added, completing his thought.

"Momma needs the rest, and you are _not _goingto wake her. Do you understand me?" Abigail added.

The authority and no room for negotiation tone in her sister's voice had Sami answering the way that she would if they'd been words from her mother. "Yes, Ma'am."

"So, what would you like for breakfast, eggs?" Tyler asked of his sisters.

"I was going to make pancakes. You want pancakes, don't you, Sami?" Abigail countered.

"Toast, eggs and bacon is better, right, Sami?" Tyler asked quickly, not giving Sami time to answer her sister.

Since Ty and Abigail were facing each other, they couldn't see Sami roll her eyes.

'How did I end up in the middle of this?' Sami wondered.

"I'm hungry, so while the two of you fight about it, I'm going to get myself a bowl of cereal," Sami said defiantly.

Fighting with each other, they hadn't noticed that Cocoa had left the room to investigate who was entering the house, nor were they aware of the person's presence when he entered the kitchen.

"You will _not_ have that sugary stuff for breakfast, Samantha," came a male voice, and it caused all three children to freeze in place.

He wanted to scoop them all up in a big hug. He'd missed them so much, but he knew that he needed to handle the situation that he'd walked into and not give in to the emotion that he was feeling at not having seen them in a month.

"Why are the three of you in here bickering about breakfast? Where's Momma?" he questioned.

"Daddy!" Sami squealed and ran towards him.

He scooped up Sami and hugged her tightly as he waited for the two older children to answer him.

Ty and Abigail wanted to run into their dad's arms, too, but they stood side-by-side to explain.

"Patty's sick, and she's been keeping Momma up all night, so we were arguing about which one of us was going to make breakfast so that Momma could sleep."

Between missing them and the fact that, though they'd been fighting, it was because they were trying to be helpful, Harm couldn't be angry, and he bent down, placing Sami back on the floor and holding out his arms, inviting his other two children in for a hug.

They ran into his arms and hugged him as he squeezed them.

"I missed you guys."

Pulling away but not letting go, Ty asked, "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow."

"I got the chance to get away earlier, and I took it... and I can't tell you how happy I am that I did and that I'm home."

He didn't like the fact that his children had been arguing, but they were kids and siblings to boot, so some fighting was to be expected, he thought.

"Now, you decide together what you want for breakfast, and after I let Momma know that I'm here, we'll make it together."

"Okay," three excited children said to their dad as he stood to go say hello to his wife.

"Daddy, she isn't in her room. She's in the rocking chair in the nursery," Abigail informed her daddy so that he didn't have to look for her.

"Thanks, I'll be right back."

**NURSERY**

**HARM'S POV**

I walk into the room, planning to kiss Mac hello, but coming around the side of the rocking chair and seeing her changes my mind, not in my desire to give her a kiss, but in acting upon the urge.

With dark circles under her eyes and a lack of color in her cheeks, she looks even more tired than she sounded on the phone, and I don't want to wake her. However, I can't believe that she's going to get any restful sleep sitting in the rocking chair, so I brush my lips over hers before I whisper, "Let's get you to bed."

"Harm," she mutters sleepily as I place her arm around my neck.

"I can't go ... Patty will need her medicine soon," she informs me as I get her to her feet.

"I can handle the Tylenol and baby teething gel without you," I comment.

"No...she has to have her antibiotic at zero eight hundred."

I knew that she'd mentioned that Patty was teething, but the need for her to be on any kind of medication is news to me.

"Antibiotic for what?" I ask, trying not to raise my voice since Mac is in a half-asleep state that will allow her to go back to sleep easily once she lies down on the bed, and I don't want to disturb her - even though I'm not pleased at being kept in the dark about whatever's wrong with my baby girl.

"Ear infection..." Mac says. "...but she should be feeling better by the time you get here on Saturday so it won't spoil your visit."

Poor Mac. She's so exhausted that, even though she's talking to me, she doesn't realize that I'm really here.

I lift her into my arms. It'll be easier for me to carry her to bed.

"Patty not feeling well while I'm here wouldn't spoil my visit," I inform her, though I doubt that what I'm saying is actually registering as I carry her out of the nursery.

**MASTER BEDROOM **

I pull up the covers, and Mac starts to sit up.

"I'd love to sleep, but I have to make breakfast for the kids," she comments.

"It's okay. You're relieved of the watch. Dad's got the con. Good night."

There's a moment when it looks like she's going to fight me, but then she falls back against the mattress, and I think that she's asleep before her head hits the pillow.

I look at her for a long moment, happy to be home but wishing that she wasn't so tired. I'd really like to have the whole family at the breakfast table.

Remembering to take the baby monitor with me, I leave our bedroom for the kitchen where I have hungry children waiting for my return.

**1300**

Mac's internal clock sounds an alarm at 1300.

In actuality, it had been trying to stir her every hour on the hour, but it hadn't been successful in waking her before now.

**MAC'S POV**

"1300!" I wake, bolting up and out of bed in a single, though not so graceful move.

"How could I have slept this late?" I ask myself.

"Why didn't one of the children wake me?" That's the next question that flutters through my mind.

I have to give Patty her medicine...feed the children... my mind is racing at a hundred miles an hour as I shrug into my robe.

I reach the door, trying to organize my thoughts and prioritize my tasks.

Figuring that the ones who need help the most are the youngest, I go into the nursery to find it empty - no Matthew - no Patty.

A knot of panic starts to form in my stomach.

I move quickly into the hall to search the other children's rooms and find that, not only aren't the babies in one of the rooms but all of my children are missing.

I feel light-headed, but I won't give into the dreadful feeling that I have at not finding any of the children. I must focus on finding them.

Picking up my pace, I make short work of the length of the hallway and come out into the living room where I see Patty asleep in her swing and Matthew napping in his playpen, but there's no sign of the three older children.

Then I hear Sami laugh.

It sounded like it came from the kitchen.

Normally, I might find the laughter of a child music to my ears, but at the happy sound, I envision a kitchen disaster - a mess originating from Sami making her own meals.

"If that's what I'm going to find, then I have no one to blame but myself," I chant as I make my way towards the kitchen.

I enter the room, braced to see the kitchen equivalent of a war zone, but that doesn't prepare me for what I do see.

"Momma," the children greet me, but my gaze remains fixed on what I can only believe is a figment of my imagination, yet his presence makes complete sense of why I allowed myself to sleep so soundly and for waking up to find that I still have an orderly house.

I'm stunned into silence by his presence.

"Are you upset by my early arrival?" Harm asks, apparently feeling wary of my reaction.

"No, I'm just in shock," I answer. "I'm _not_ dreaming. You really are here, aren't you?"

"It's no dream. I'm really here," he answers before I find myself enveloped in his arms, his lips coming to mine.

My urge to deepen the kiss, to take in as much of him as I can, to savor this moment, is suppressed by the tender age of our audience.

After a satisfactory kiss, but one that left me wanting more, our lips part.

"It's good to be home," Harm says with a rather pleased-with-himself grin on his face as he releases his hold on me.

"Daddy made us breakfast," Sami states in her four-year-old way that sounds less informative and more like tattling.

"What time did you get here?" I ask.

"I don't have your sense of timing, so I can't be precise, but it was around seven thirty."

"Why didn't you call? I would've picked you up at the airport," I say, making conversation and still not quite believing that he's really here, even though that kiss seemed very real.

"I started to call you, but you've been sounding so tired when we talk at night that I thought that, if you had the opportunity to sleep in this morning because the children were out of school, then I should let you get your rest. I started to call Keeter to pick me up, but he hates mornings, so I just took a taxi."

"I guess, since it's after one in the afternoon and I'm still in my nightgown, it was a good call on your part," I say sheepishly, not wanting to admit how tired I was or how much better I feel after getting some restful sleep.

"What are you guys doing ... making lunch?" I ask as I see items that are usually in the pantry sitting out on the counter.

"No. We've already had lunch, Momma," Abigail answers.

"We're making a list for the store. Daddy says that there's no food in the house," Sami adds.

"There's plenty of food in the house," I say defensively.

"I didn't say that there wasn't any food in the house, Samantha. I said that I was missing a few things in order for me to cook this weekend," Harm scolds Sami. I'm sure that he thought that my reaction meant that I took what Sami had said as his disapproval of the meals that I've been serving our children while he's been away, which I had.

Feeling better after Harm had clarified the remark that he'd made to the children and happy to turn over the cooking duties to him, I ask, "What can I do to help?"

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2145**

**HARM'S POV**

I hesitate outside our bedroom door.

The cause for my delay in entering the room is that, once I enter, it'll be the first time that Mac and I have been without any children all day, and I need to take a moment to draw a deep breath and slow down my breathing at the thought of being alone with her.

There are no guidebooks to tell you how long you should be home before you bed your wife after separation, and that's the cause for my needing a moment to collect myself.

I know that in training videos shown before returning to port, you're instructed not to rush back into a normal routine, allow yourself time to assimilate back into the family, but I haven't been deployed, so that doesn't seem like it applies to me. At the same time, walking into the bedroom and jumping my wife's bones sounds too far the opposite for it to be correct either.

I shake my head as I realize that I'm spending too much time thinking about it. I know from the way that she responded to the kiss of greeting that we shared earlier today that she's missed me as much as I've missed her.

'Everything will be fine,' I think as I turn the doorknob.

"Everyone is sound asleep," I announce, entering the bedroom.

Mac is wrapped in a knee-length robe that's tied at the waist, and a glimpse of her legs has me thinking about her, me and the bed... Wait! She's saying something. Focus, Rabb, focus.

"That doesn't surprise me. I'm sure they're worn out. They had a fun and busy day with their dad."

With the door closed behind me, I step farther into the room, saying, "That's a two-way street. Even chores like cooking meals and grocery shopping are more enjoyable for me when I'm doing them with my family."

"I can't tell you how nice it is to have you here with us."

"Then don't try to _tell _me," I counter in the tone that I reserve for our private moments like this, and the statement is blatantly suggestive as I grab the hem of my pullover shirt and pull it over my head.

"Between flying all night and then entertaining our children all day, aren't you too tired?" she asks in her sexy purr.

"I'm never too tired to be with you," I reply as I drop my shirt on the floor just a fraction of a second before her body is pressing against mine.

Our lips meet as my arms envelop her.

The kiss quickly becomes heated and intense.

Need, desire and passion take over and, within the span of just a few minutes, our clothing's been discarded and we're on the bed.

Determined that I won't give into my need to reach release, I roll over until she's on top of me. I'll let her lead.

She positions herself to take full advantage of me.

As hurried as we both were to get to this point, she slowly lowers herself on to me.

Once my full length is buried in her moist, warm center, there's no sign of the woman who was so tired when I arrived today that my presence registered with her only on some deep level where she knew that the children would be safe if she gave in to sleep.

She sets a feverish pace.

It's a lustful rhythm that quickly has us feeling the blissful euphoria that comes with release.

With her body lying on mine, the "Mmm" that I hear come from her is muffled against my chest.

It's the sound of my wife who's sated and ready for sleep.

My hands are resting on her hips. Then, because of the stillness of her body, the silence in the room and her breathing having become even once again, I suspect that sleep has claimed her. However, I find that I'm wrong when she speaks.

"I want you to know that what you came home to isn't what's been going on the entire time that you've been away," she says quietly.

"I have no doubt that you've been running a tight ship while I've been away and that Patty being ill threw a monkey wrench into the routine," I say sincerely.

"I would've told you if there had been something that you could've done or if the doctor hadn't told me that she'd be feeling better in a few days."

"No reason to explain it to me. I completely understand why you didn't tell me."

"You do?" She sounds like she's surprised.

Then she lifts her head off my chest and looks me in the eye.

"What haven't you told me?"

"Something about my mother," I answer.

"You know what's wrong with her?"

"I do know, and along with the fact that there was nothing that you could do, I didn't want to tell you what was going on when you couldn't see that she was doing okay for yourself or at least see my face so that you'd know that I wasn't keeping anything from you."

"So, are you going to tell me now?" she inquires after I haven't immediately begun to fill her in.

"There's one more thing that you need to know first, and that's the fact that my mom didn't want anyone to know, so she made Frank promise to keep it a secret. Thankfully, he thought that it was more important that I know than to keep his promise, but I don't want her to find out that Frank broke her confidence, so I need for what I tell you to stay between us. Okay?"

"Okay," she agrees without hesitation, but her face is so close to mine that I can see the concern for my mother in her eyes.

"Do you remember that you and I talked about how she sounded tired or weak over the phone when she called the farm to wish Ty a happy birthday?"

"Yes."

"It's because she'd been released from the hospital only that morning. She'd been experiencing some pain the previous Sunday evening, and it didn't seem to be getting any better, so on Monday morning, Frank took her to the emergency room where she was told that she'd had a heart attack. Then, during the course of testing before releasing her, they found something and, later that day, she had a double bypass."

"I'm sorry, Harm." she says comfortingly. "How is she doing now?"

"When I got there, she looked terrible ... pale and frail, but she's got some color back, she's getting around much better than when I arrived, and her voice sounds stronger. Frank says that her doctors are saying that they expect her to make a full recovery, and with a little exercise and diet modification, she should be just fine."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm better now," I say with one eyebrow raised suggestively, glossing over the fact that I was freaked out when I learned of my mother's heart attack. "You?"

"I'm _some_ better," she says with a shrug of her shoulder, but the glint in her eye tells me what would make her a lot better.

"Then I'll have to make sure that we go slower this time because I want you to feel a_ lot _better," I say before I roll over, taking her with me.

With her back now on the mattress, I make my first move in making love to her - a tender kiss on lips.


	50. Chapter 50 Part 5 - Dealing With Separat

**PART FIVE - Time with Family**

**SATURDAY, APRIL 11, 2009**

**NURSERY **

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0110 LOCAL**

**MAC'S POV**

I watch from the doorway as my husband scoops up our freshly diapered baby girl from the changing table and places her head against his chest.

"Being dry ought to make you feel some better," he comments to her while rubbing her back.

Though watching my husband while in daddy mode, a mode that he's very good at, is something that I enjoy, I step into the room prepared to take over so that he can rest.

"Harm," I say softly so as not to startle him or our baby.

He turns to look at me. In need of sleep, his eyes have a smokiness to them ... and it's sexy.

"I'm here to relieve the watch."

"No need ... she and I are fine."

"Last week was really rough with her not feeling well and not sleeping through the night, but thanks to you coming in and taking over yesterday, I got some sleep and I'm feeling much better. Let me take her so that you can get some sleep."

A look that I don't recognize comes over his features as he starts to pass Patty to me.

"I was just trying to help," he begins, and that's when I realize that the look on his face is hurt.

"I know," I say as I get Patty settled in my arms. "I didn't mean to make it sound like you stormed the gates and took over, because I don't feel that way at all," I say apologetically.

His eyes brighten.

"I'm glad that you got here a day early. I needed the rest, and our children ... they're so happy to have you home. I'd have to say that your timing was impeccable."

Now he's grinning.

"It looks like you have good timing, too, because I can't help with that," he says, pointing at Patty who's nuzzling at my breast, trying to nurse through my nightgown.

"This is the first time that she's awakened tonight, and she's hungry. I'd say that she's feeling better. While I feed her, why don't you go back to bed and get some sleep?"

"I'm not denying that I'm tired, but it's a good kind of tired ... the kind of worn out that you get from an enjoyable day with children ... and a night with my wife," he adds with a mischievous grin and a suggestively raised eyebrow.

"That's why you need to rest now. I know that you'll have another full day with the children, and tonight, I may just want a repeat performance. I wouldn't want you to be too tired," I say, matching his tone of innuendo.

"Well, baby girl, I wouldn't want to disappoint your momma, so eat up while daddy goes back to bed."

As Harm leaves the nursery, it's my turn to smile because it's good to have him home.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**0550**

**MAC'S POV**

I can't help but make the sound "mmm" because it feels so good to have him here as I snuggle closer to Harm's side.

He was asleep by the time I made it back to bed after Patty went back to sleep, so I know that he was more tired than he'd realized or was willing to admit.

With my head resting on his shoulder and my arm comfortably draped across his abdomen, I lay motionless, enjoying the closeness of our bodies and inhaling the scent that's uniquely him.

His arm becomes tighter around me, keeping me securely in my new, closer proximity to him.

I'm in a place where I feel safe and warm, and I could easily close my eyes and drift off to sleep, but he and I had little time alone yesterday, and I know that, once the children are awake, there'll be no time for those things that a husband and wife need time to do to stay connected - like talk.

**HARM'S POV**

She's doing that thing that she does when she wants to talk, drawing circles on my chest with her fingertips, and it brings me to a state of consciousness.

"What's on your mind, Mrs. Rabb?" I inquire, my voice husky from sleep.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she softly says apologetically.

"You didn't." I stretched the truth. I don't think that her habit would've caused me to wake if I'd been deeply asleep. "Should we get up and get an early start on the day?"

I already know that the answer to my question is no. What I don't know is if she really wants to talk or if she has a more personal activity on her mind.

"We can if you want to get up, but I'd rather stay like this a little longer."

"Me, too," I say, agreeing with her statement in general, though I can think of a different position or two that I'd like to be in with her.

"Before you woke up, I was thinking that, if we managed to find some quiet time ... just you and me ... there are things that I want to ask you ... things that I want to say to you."

I scan the room with my eyes.

"I don't see anyone ... and I don't hear anything. However, that could change at any moment around here, so start talking before you lose the opportunity."

"Since we haven't really talked about it, I wanted to ask you about the moving arrangements."

"Though I can't recall speaking much about them over the phone, we've exchanged plenty of emails on the subject. So what's there left to talk about?"

She hasn't had a chance to answer, but suddenly my throat clenches from the thought that she's about to tell me that something's happened that will delay my family from joining me.

"Has something happened that poses a problem with our current plans?" I ask with ears on high alert to catch any change in her voice that will hint at there being a problem, even if she doesn't say it out right.

"Nothing's happened. I was just thinking about it the other night when I was up with Patty. I made the call and set a date for the first shipment of our household goods and one for the final shipment. Then, I emailed the dates to you and a list of things that I thought should be included in the first shipment. It just seems to me that I made all of the decisions and that you might feel left out of the process."

"It isn't that you just sent me dates and told me to live with them. You asked if the dates, especially of the first shipment that I'd be receiving before you arrived, would work at my end. You also asked for my input on items that should be added to or deleted from the first shipment list. So I don't feel left out. If anything, it's a relief to know that you've got all of that under control. It allows me to focus on getting settled in at my new command without worrying that the time that I'm spending at work is causing a delay in getting my family moved there."

"Good. That makes me feel better." Her hand finally stills, and her palm comes to rest flat against my chest.

**MAC'S POV**

I lift my head off his shoulder for the first time since he woke and look him in the eye.

"Now that you've brought it up, how is work going? You haven't said much about your staff, except when you compared your two senior attorneys to us not long after you got there. You've been there for a month now. Have you discovered that they're more or less like us?"

"I think the similarities pretty much end with he's Navy and she's a Marine," he replies.

I heard disappointment in his voice, prompting me to ask, "They aren't good lawyers?"

"Not Rabb and MacKenzie good, but they are aren't bad trial attorneys."

"Then why the lackluster endorsement of them?" I ask.

**HARM'S POV**

"It isn't because of their skills in the courtroom. It's their leadership skills that I question."

"How so?" she asks.

"You've had your own command, so you know that, in the legal field, since those under your command aren't going to be leading a team into combat, you use other means to assess leadership abilities."

"Such as how they mentor newer attorneys," Mac comments as if reading my mind before allowing me to continue.

"There's one attorney who I believe is eager to learn and, with guidance from a good, seasoned attorney, could be in our league ... like Bud, but neither of my senior attorneys is stepping up to the plate."

"Though I believe that Bud would have eventually found his own way, I get what you're trying to say, and I have no doubt that he achieved results faster and maybe a step above what he'd have achieved on his own because of the time that you took to guide and encourage him along the way."

"I'd like to take all the credit, but _we _helped him get there."

"Thank you for recognizing my contribution..." she says with a smile. "...and it sounds like there's a commander and a Marine who are in need of a little guidance on mentoring from their CO."

"I would except for the fact that I don't feel like I should be casting stones right now," I say softly.

"Why?" She's eyeing me curiously, but her tone is full of concern.

"Because I'm guilty of not lifting a finger to correct the situation in the month that I've been there. I've continued to give Tiner menial cases that won't give him the opportunity to gain courtroom experience because I didn't want to risk having to help him when my involvement could've kept me from being able to be here this weekend."

"I see," she says before pausing to give thought to what she'll say next.

Her pause is a brief one.

"I don't agree with you, Counselor. You aren't like them at all. Perhaps you're guilty of being a touch selfish in order to have a weekend with your family, but I wouldn't dock you any leadership points for it because, unlike them, you see what needs to be done and you _will_ give Tiner a chance. My only question is, have you decided which way you're going to go about correcting the situation? Are you going to try to show them what they should be doing by mentoring him yourself or is Tiner about to start sitting second chair to one of them until he gets his feet wet?"

She's posed the very question that I must answer, but I don't want to think about work while I'm here, and I'm pretty sure that it won't be too difficult for me to get her off the subject.

"Do you really want to talk about this kind of stuff now? Because I think that we could be using this time alone much more wisely," I comment while tugging gently on her hand until her breasts are pressed against my chest and her lips are hovering just an inch above mine.

"When you put it like that, no, I don't," she confirms before she presses her lips to mine.

**KITCHEN**

**1005 **

"We were just talking about you," Mac says as Mattie walks into the room, looking a little surprised.

"I didn't think that you'd be back from the airport this soon," Mattie comments, which explains the look on her face.

"We probably wouldn't have been if I hadn't been able to change my flight, but I was able to stow away on a flight that arrived yesterday," I joke.

"You've been here a whole day and you didn't bother to call me?" Mattie now sounds irritated.

"I didn't want you to change your plans on my account," I respond, unsure if the shift in Mattie's mood should concern me.

"You have great timing. The kids have agreed on miniature golf for today's activity, and we were just discussing whether you'd like to go with us," Mac says, jumping in to keep the situation from getting too tense. "We're all going, and afterward, we're headed to the mall to exchange the dress shoes that I bought Ty to wear to church tomorrow. I made the mistake of buying them in the same size as the sneakers that I bought for his birthday only six weeks ago, but they're too small. He'll fidget the whole time that we're in church if I don't exchange them."

"I could exchange the shoes for you. That way you won't feel rushed at the miniature golf place," Mattie volunteers.

"That's nice of you, but this time I want to have his feet with me. That way, if it's more to do with the style of the shoe than the size, I'll know, and we can buy him a different style," Mac replies before encouraging Mattie to come with us. "We have the rest of the day to accomplish just three things: golf, exchange the shoes and decorate Easter eggs for tomorrow, so I don't think that time will be an issue. Come on ... come with us. It'll be fun for the whole family to do something together."

"Well, we won't have a chance to do it again any time soon, so yeah, I'm in. When do we leave?" Mattie asks.

"I thought that we'd leave in about an hour," Mac answers. "Patty should be up from her morning nap by then."

"Then I'll be in my room working on the homework that I was planning to do while I was waiting for you to get here from the airport."

I walk over to my daughter.

"I should've called to let you know that I'd taken an earlier flight," I say apologetically.

I hadn't considered that she'd be worried about me making the trip. Once she'd gone up with me in Sarah, I'd thought that she'd been cured and that she wouldn't worry about traveling by plane, but apparently, I'd been wrong.

**MATTIE'S POV**

I let out a sigh of relief as I reciprocate my dad's hug.

With life as tough as it is and as messed up as I am, I need Harm. He's my rock, the reason why I know that somehow it'll all be okay.

Handling the loss of another person who's part of my life would be difficult for me right now, but dealing with losing Harm - impossible.

"Sorry that I still have this thing about planes and crashing. I'm working on it and it's getting better. Now I find that I get anxious only when I know that someone I care about is on an airplane," I say with my arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Understandable ... and I'm flattered that you care so much."

I know that he didn't say much, but the way that he said it while he's hugging me, I know that, without making a big deal out of it in front of Mac, 'he gets it' and that, if I want to talk about it, all I have to do is to let him know. He's here for me - whenever. He also let me know that he'll be more considerate the next time and won't make me worry any longer than necessary.

I think that Harm may be the perfect dad and, just like that, I have an idea for the paper that I need to write this weekend.

"I just thought of a topic for my paper. I'd better go outline it while it's still fresh in my mind. Let me know when it's time to go, okay?" I say before dashing off to my room to get to work on the paper that, until ten seconds ago, I had no clue about what I was going to write.

Having Dad home is awesome.

**DINING ROOM**

**1837**

**HARM'S POV**

Settled in around the table this evening, I'm happy to see my family eating heartily, presumably because they're enjoying my mock veal Parmesan made with eggplant and not because they're so hungry that they'd eat anything put in front of them.

Aside from the way that making a meal for my family makes me feel, the smile on my face is because Mattie is here with us, too.

I miss Mattie as much as the others, maybe more since I talk to her only once a week and we see her only on the weekends, even when the rest of the family is here together.

"I just realized that I haven't seen Kevin yet this weekend. Will he be having dinner with us tomorrow?"

No one had told me that they'd broken up and, before I'd left for California, he was here for at least one meal every weekend, so I had no idea that my question was going to draw such a look of distress from Mattie.

I look at Mac, who shrugs her shoulders, letting me know that she has no idea why my question had received such a response.

"He's having dinner tomorrow with his mom and her boyfriend," Mattie finally explains.

Her answer came in a calm, normal tone that doesn't match the storm of emotion that I see in her eyes.

"He didn't come over last weekend either. Is there something that we should know?" Mac pipes up, sounding concerned that Mattie's been going through something and hasn't spoken to either of us about it.

"Yes, but can we talk about it later?" Mattie asks, her voice making her words sound like a plea.

"Sure we can, but we _will_ talk about it," I respond in what I hope she takes as a loving, fatherly way.

**MATTIE'S ROOM**

**2115**

**MATTIE'S POV**

I know that the knock on the door means that it's time for me to come clean with my parents.

I knew that I'd have to tell them, but I hadn't planned to tell them tonight...anytime this weekend, really.

The door pushes open, and there's Mac with Harm right behind her.

"How's the paper coming for school?" Mac asks.

"Almost done. Thanks for asking, but that isn't why you're here. Come on in and have a seat," I say, motioning towards my bed, the only sitting area aside from the single chair at my desk where I'm sitting.

Mac and Harm, who's holding the handset of the baby monitor in his hand, enter the room and close the door behind them.

They sit side-by-side on the edge of my bed facing the desk and seem to be waiting for me to start the conversation because their eyes are fixed on me, but they have yet to say a word.

There's a long silence as they wait patiently for me to begin, but I don't think that telling them that I don't know what the status of my relationship with Kevin is right now will satisfy them. Yet, going weeks, even months back to give them some idea of why Kevin's question is so bothersome to me will seem like we're covering old ground, and for what? Will it really reveal any answers or will it just ruin Harm's visit?

"I don't know if I have any answers and I don't want to ruin Harm's visit this weekend by talking about Kevin," I admit openly.

"You can't ruin my visit by telling me about something that's happened in your life. I want to know how things are going for you and help you to find the answers, if I can," Harm states.

Harm's eyes shine with concern, and I know that he means it. I also know that he'll do his best to understand but that it'll be Mac who'll be able to relate and understand on a level that he can't.

I pause for a moment before I continue to explain, "When I first got to Tech, I spent any spare time that I had with my father. I didn't have time for a social life and I was fine with that, but then, after he died ..."

It's still hard for me to think of him as being gone.

"When a friend invited me to her birthday party a few weeks after his funeral, I couldn't think of any reason why I shouldn't go and be around people my own age. It was just a birthday party, so I told her I'd come. I'm not sure what I expected, but other than having balloons and a cake, it was like no other birthday party that I'd ever been to before. There was music and dancing..."

I stop speaking for a moment to take a breath before getting to the core issue.

"Was it an adult birthday party complete with alcohol?"

Judging from Mac's question, she sees where I'm going with this story.

"Yes, beer, and though I didn't know it until after I drank some, spiked punch."

"Is that the first time you got drunk?" Harm asks.

"No, I drank one cup of punch, but I didn't get drunk that night. I went to another party a few weeks after that and drank only canned soda. I started to tell myself that I'd been making a big deal out of nothing and that there was no reason why I couldn't go to parties like my peers and have a good time. Now, I wasn't going to parties every weekend, but it was that way of thinking that caused me to drop my guard and, by the time I'd gone to party number five or six, I had myself believing that I could have just one or two drinks. I was wrong and I got drunk. After that, I didn't go to a party for a few weeks. Then I convinced myself that I needed to get drunk once so I'd know my limits, know when to quit, but I was wrong. I got so drunk the next time that I threw up all over myself. You'd think that would've been enough to keep me from drinking, and it did for awhile, but it didn't stop me from _ever _drinking again."

I can tell from Harm and Mac's expressions that they aren't judging me. They know that there's more and are patiently waiting for me to get it all out.

"I'm not sure how long it was before I went to a party again, but I did resume going to them, one here, one there, no real pattern ... that is, until the pain in my back started and I found that drinking dulled the pain, at least for a little while, and that's when I started going to a party every Friday night. Then, as the pain in my back got worse, I started making excuses not to come here in order to go to a party on Saturday night, Sundays, too, if there was one to go to, and I'd get drunk every time."

I know that I'm giving them a lot of information about the past, but I feel that I need to tell them the back story before I get to my most recent stunt.

"From what I've just told you, you now know that I wasn't completely honest with you when you confronted me about my drinking. I was drinking before my back started to hurt. It just became more frequent after the pain began."

"Have you started drinking again?" Mac asks, and I know that she already knows the answer.

"I had a good streak of sobriety running after Harm caught me ... until two weeks ago."

"Is your back bothering you again?" Harm asks.

"No," I reply to his question.

"Did Kevin pressure you to drink? Is that why he hasn't been here for the past two weekends?" Harm asks.

"No, Kevin isn't the problem. I am," I begin. "All Kevin did was ask me to go with him to a party. He'd asked me the Friday before, and I'd said yes to the date without giving any thought to where we were going. Of course, during the week that followed, I thought about the situation that I'd be in, but before the night of the party, I'd decided that I didn't want to lose another good guy because I didn't want to be around people who drink. By the time Kevin picked me up, I was sure that I could go and have a good time and not drink. My decision not to drink lasted about thirty minutes, by which time I'd convinced myself that I could stop after one or two, but that didn't happen. I got drunk. I felt so ashamed that I couldn't even leave the party with Kevin. A friend of mine, Bryce, was there, and I asked him to take me home."

"I'll bet that Kevin wasn't happy that you left with another guy," Harm comments, obviously seeing it from a man's perspective, but he continues to listen for information as to why Kevin hasn't been here recently.

"Probably not, but I have no way of knowing for sure since I didn't give Kevin a chance to say much. I just told him that I needed to go home, that I was getting a ride from Bryce and that he should stay and have fun. I'm sure that he would've wanted to talk about it on the drive here for the weekend, but to make matters worse, when Kevin came over to my house on that Saturday morning to pick me up, guess who answered the door. Yep! Bryce."

I see Harm's eyes go wide and I know that I have to clear up something before I say anymore about my problem or the situation with Kevin.

"Don't get the wrong idea. Bryce drove me home. I threw up in his car, and he slept on my couch. That's all. He said that he'd stayed to make sure that I was okay. There's nothing and could never be anything between me and Bryce."

I think that some of the color is coming back into Harm's face now, so I can continue my story.

"Kevin got the idea, much the way that I'm sure that you just did, that Bryce and I had sex. Kevin lost his temper and clocked Bryce for taking advantage of me when I was drunk, and then he left."

"Haven't you spoken to Kevin in the last two weeks to try to clear up things?" Mac asks.

"Last weekend when I was here, I was angry with Kevin for not thinking better of me, so I didn't email or talk to him all weekend. By the time I got back to school on Monday, I could see things from Kevin's point of view and I was ready to talk to him ... to explain, but he wasn't ready to listen, and it was his turn to push me away. It took a few more days, but we finally spoke two days ago. I explained about the week before and that nothing had happened between Bryce and me. I also explained that, I didn't feel right about him having to leave the party that he was enjoying because I got drunk, so when I saw Bryce, who I know doesn't drink, I asked him to take me home."

"Did he believe that you were telling him the truth?" Mac asks.

"Yes, and I thought that we were going to kiss and make up. Instead, though, he looked me in the eye and said that, if I was ashamed that I got drunk, too ashamed to have my boyfriend drive me home, then maybe I should be asking myself if I have a drinking problem, and then he just walked away."

I get choked up at the memory of Kevin saying that he had to get to class and walking away, leaving me to wonder if we're still dating or if I've lost him.

"Do _you_ think that you have a drinking problem?" Harm asks.

"I've denied it often enough, but if the question keeps coming up, then I have to give the idea some consideration, don't I?" I question.

If I am, that would make me such a hypocrite. I took such a hard line against alcohol in high school, so far as to break up with Paul, a good guy, because he occasionally wanted to go to parties where alcohol was available. Why, because everyone who drinks is an alcoholic? Or was it my fear that I'd like the taste of liquor so much that I wouldn't be able to stop...like my dad?

"I don't think the question would keep coming up if there wasn't some basis for it, do you?" Mac asks.

"That's kind of what I thought, but how...? Mac, how did you know for sure that you had a problem? How did you stop drinking?" I ask as a tear trickles down my cheek.

"Harm, you know the story, and I have a feeling that this is going to take awhile. So, would you mind going to the kitchen and bringing us all something to drink and maybe a snack? I think that Mattie and I need to have a long and perhaps overdue talk."

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**2350**

**HARM'S POV**

I'm restless. I picked up a book and put it down, then I picked it up and put it down again. I even opened it a time or two, but I'm too absorbed in thinking about whether I should've stayed in Mattie's room after I'd taken in the drinks and snacks that Mac had requested.

I did stay for a few minutes, but I could feel the uneasiness coming off of Mattie in waves with me in the room.

Wanting Mattie to have at least one of her parents informed about what's going on in her life, I reluctantly excused myself, feeling that it was for the best at the moment.

I'm sure that Mattie's comfort level with Mac comes from the fact that she's aware that Mac's been in her shoes - having to face a drinking problem - while I can relate more to Kevin's position - a man in love with a woman with a drinking problem.

I have the book in my hands, having just picked it up again, when Mac walks through the open bedroom door.

**MAC'S POV**

Harm isn't fooling me with the book that he's holding. He hasn't been reading. He's been waiting up to see how my talk with Mattie played out.

"I can't tell you anything," I state, closing our bedroom door.

"She doesn't want me to know what the two of you talked about?" he asks.

"No. I can tell you what we talked about, but you want to know if she's an alcoholic, and I can't answer that."

"Then what have the two of you been talking about for the last two hours?" He sounds frustrated, so I don't take his tone personally.

"She wanted to hear my story, and I told her," I reply.

"Do you think that she's an alcoholic?"

"Harm..." I begin as I slip into bed. "...it's been my experience that a person who drinks doesn't question if they have a problem unless they have a problem."

"So that would be a yes?" he questions, his tone again suggesting that he's frustrated by my lack of being able to give him a definitive answer.

"Yes, but I'm not the one who has to accept that fact. She is...and I don't think that she's ready to do that yet."

"What do we have to do to get her to see that she has more than just a 'problem'? he asks.

"There's nothing that we can do to make her see it. She has to get there on her own."

"I hope that no one has to die before she gets help," he says, and I know that he's referring to the car accident that took my friend Eddie's life and led to my uncle's intervention, which I'm sure saved my life from an alcohol related death.

**HARM'S POV**

Thinking of her story seems only natural, but I'm sorry that I said it the moment the sentence left my mouth. However, I can't take it back.

"I hope so, too," she responds without anger in her voice, but there _is_ a hint of hurt in there. I can hear it. "If you need a bright side. She's asking questions of herself and others. She's gathering information. She may not be ready to stand up in a room and admit to others that she's an alcoholic, but she's begun to evaluate her behavior long before I did, so I don't think that her rock bottom is going to be as deep a pit as mine was," she explains.

I put down my book and reach for her, but she pulls away.

"Mac, I didn't mean it like that. I meant ..."

"Harm, I know what you meant. You hope that Mattie doesn't have to go through as much as I went through before she decides to get help. I understand that and I agree. I hope that she doesn't either."

"Okay, you do understand what I was saying, but me saying it still hurt you, and I'm sorry about that part of it."

This time she doesn't pull away as I place my arm around her.

"Maybe it's good that it came up because, since we've been a couple, it's the one thing that we've never talked about. Do you worry about me drinking again?" she asks.

"No," I reply.

"Why?" she asks.

"For one, because I believe in you and in your strength to remain sober and set a good example for our children. For another, because I hope that you know that I love you and that you have enough faith in me and my love for you that, if you were ever tempted to take a drink again, you'd tell me and, together, we'd get through it," I reply sincerely.

"That may have been the perfect answer. I love you, too. Now kiss me good night, because I know that you're going to worry about Mattie, and at least one of us should get some sleep tonight."


	51. Chapter 51-Part 6, Dealing With Separati

**PART SIX - Time To Get Back To Work**

**MONDAY, APRIL 13, 2009**

**HARM'S ROOM**

**BURNETT HOME**

**LA JOLLA, CA**

**1800 LOCAL - 2100 EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

Cell phone in hand and dialing the familiar number, I feel a tug on my heart because I was there just hours ago, and now I'm back to loving my family via the telephone.

Mac picks up on the second ring.

"Hold on a second. Ty, Abby and Sami all want to talk to you before they go to bed."

The fact that I was there for three days to tuck them and now I'm not increases the pain in my chest. Why is it so hard to deal with being separated from them?

"Hi, Daddy," Sami says in a sleepy voice.

I don't know how she got her mom to give in to letting her stay up past her bed time, but from the sound of her voice, I called just before the sandman claimed her.

"Hi, Sami. I love you."

"Love you, too, Daddy," she replies, if I understood correctly through her yawn.

"Sweet dreams, Ladybug. Now, you head to bed and let me talk to your sister."

"Okay. Bye." The volume of her voice faded as she spoke. She must have been passing the phone over while she was speaking to me.

"Hi, Daddy. I miss you already."

"I miss you, too ... but remember, it's only six weeks until I'll be back there to -"

"You're going to take us back with you then, right?" Abigail says, cutting me off.

"That's right," I reply.

"I can't wait," she says with such anticipation.

"Me, either," I respond softly.

It isn't that I'm not looking forward to our next reunion, but my happiness about being reunited with my family is marred by the pain of having had to leave them earlier today.

"Momma says that it's Ty's turn now. I love you, Daddy. Good night."

"Good night, Princess."

I hear Mac in the background while the phone is changing hands. "Get into bed and I'll be there to tuck you in after Ty and I have said good night to Daddy."

"Hi, Dad," comes through the phone to my ear.

"Hey, Ty, you about ready for bed, too?"

"Yeah, Mom made us keep to the schedule for getting ready for bed, so we all had to take our baths and get in our pajamas. She said that we could wait up until you called to say good night before we actually had to get into bed."

"I guess that means that we shouldn't talk long so that you can get your rest."

"Yeah, and do you know what the best part of going to bed is now that you're gone again?" Ty asks.

I can't lie. I feel a sting at the sound of his apparent happiness about the fact that I'm not there.

"No, what?" I ask, though I can't imagine an answer that isn't going to hurt.

"Mom helped us make countdown calendars until you're coming to help move us to California, and every night before we go to bed, she said that we could mark off a day. When we made them after dinner, we had forty-two days left, so when I cross off today, it'll only be only forty-one."

My heart has wings again as I hear that he isn't happy that I'm gone. He's just developed a way of dealing with the separation, which is to count the days until we see each other again.

"I sure like the sound of there being one less day to go, so you'd better get into bed so we can get this day off the books."

"Okay, Dad, good night," he says.

"Good night, Buddy. I'll see you in forty-two days."

"Forty-one, right?" he asks in a way that says that he's trying to politely correct me.

"Not yet. You haven't crossed off today yet, have you?"

"No ... here's Mom."

"Hey," Mac says sweetly into the phone.

"Hey yourself," I respond softly.

"Anything wrong, Harm? Your mother okay?"

The lack of enthusiasm in my voice has caused her to be concerned about me to the point where she suspects that something isn't right here.

"Nothing's wrong. Mom's good. I'm told that she went to work today - with her doctor's blessing - for the first time since her surgery. Frank said that she went in at ten and was on her way home at two. He also told me that he'd insisted that she lie down for a little bit when she got home, which she'd resisted doing, but eventually he'd convinced her to give in to make him feel better. He said that he was glad that he'd been persistent because, when he'd gone to check on her not more than five minutes later, she was asleep. The half day seemed to have worn her out, but that wasn't unexpected, and he thought that it did her a world of good to get out of the house. It made her feel more like her old self, is how he put it. I'm also told that she plans to go to the gallery again tomorrow."

"It sounds like she's getting some of her fight back. That's good. So why do you sound so down?"

"I know that I left there only a few hours ago, but it already seems like it's been weeks since I've seen you and the kids."

I think I may have just whined.

"We miss you, too," she says reassuringly.

"Sami sounded like she wasn't going to be able to stay awake much longer, so though I'd like to talk to you, I should let you get them all tucked in."

"I should go, but we'll talk later. I'll call you before I turn in tonight."

"It would be great to talk to you, but you do need your rest, too," I say sincerely, meaning it but hoping that this is one of those times when she'll disregard my 'protest'.

"I think we've been married long enough that I can confide in you that it takes me two or three days to adjust to falling asleep when you're gone, so hearing your voice right before I lie down will actually help me get to sleep," Mac confesses.

"I thought that I was the only one who suffered from 'sleep interruptus' when we're apart," I say jokingly.

"No, Sailor, it isn't just you," she purrs, and I can picture the smile on her face as she's saying it.

"Give the kids a kiss from me when you tuck them in," I say so she knows that, at least for now, it's time to say good bye.

"I will. Talk to you again later."

"Yes, later," I respond before hitting the button to terminate our connection.

The ending of our call brings back the question that I'd asked myself earlier: 'Why is it so hard to deal with being separated from them?'

The answer is simple - because I love them so very much, and if that makes me a weenie, a legal one or some other kind, I'm okay with it.

With my cell phone still in hand, I place another call.

The party on the other end also answers on the second ring.

"Hi, Dad." Mattie's voice comes through the line to my ear. "Thank you for sending the text message letting me know that your plane had landed safely."

"I didn't want you to worry, so I sent the text from the plane once we were taxiing to the gate."

"I guess it seems silly to you that I'm so sensitive about you being on a plane when you've told me that you've crashed, and it doesn't bother you at all to get on a plane."

"After what happened to you, I don't think it's silly that you feel anxiety when a member of your family flies. I just hadn't stopped to see it from your point of view. Now that I know how worried you get, I won't let you fret any longer than necessary about me."

"Why is it that you can get on a plane without thinking about crashing, and I can't help but think of the plane crashing when I get on one and when anyone I know boards one?" she asks.

"I don't know the psychological name. I'm sure there's some phobia that covers it, but unless the thought of crashing consumes your every thought to the point that you can't think of anything else, I don't believe that you're having an abnormal reaction."

"So you don't think that I'm some kind of crazy?" she asks with a hint of playfulness.

"No, I don't ... at least not any crazier than the rest of us," I joke.

"Thanks a lot," she says with a chuckle.

"Seriously, though I've never been in a serious car accident - a fender bender, yes, but nothing major, yet I always want to hear from you...a call or text to let me know that you made it safely back to Blacksburg. There are hazards out there, and I worry about your safety. Given what happened to you, I think your need to know that I've arrived in one piece is completely understandable. I just hadn't thought of it from your perspective, and to care about someone's safety is anything but silly."

"I still don't understand why you don't seem to be at all bothered by flying. Maybe it's a gender difference. Men and women just don't have the same reactions to the same situations."

"It isn't really my area of expertise, but I can tell you that everyone handles what happens to them differently. I've seen it first-hand. The same event experienced by different people at the same time will impact each person differently, and I don't think that gender matters as much as their personality."

"What do you mean?" she questions seriously.

"I know a woman RIO who's been involved in at least two flight mishaps and still loves to fly. Now that isn't to say that neither she nor I have ever wondered why in the world we still want to be up in the air. I think that for us the joy we get from flying is greater than our fear ... or maybe it's the sense of doing our duty ... our training that causes us to push through the moments of fear. However, once we have wind under our wings, if we think about it at all, we wonder why we had a moment of doubt that we wanted to be anywhere else."

"I think I get want you mean, though I can't imagine what it would be like to have someone shooting at me while I was up there. When you took me up, I didn't think about anything other than the feeling of freedom that being in the air gave me. I got a little nervous only when it came time to land, but even then it wasn't overwhelmingly alarming. I was just "antsy" I guess you'd call it."

"You may find that the more times you go up, the less nervous you are, or you may always get "antsy" when it comes time to land," I comment.

"I'd ask if that was an invitation, but I know that you already have a passenger and a very excited one at that, I might add, for your flight up to the farm on Memorial Day weekend," Mattie replies.

"That I do. We figured that, since Matthew isn't old enough to be classified as another guy around the house, Ty would benefit from some guy time. So, we're going to fly up together and hang out on the farm until you and Mac get there with the rest of the family later in the day. However, if you want to put your name in the hat for the second seat, I don't have a passenger for the trip home."

"Isn't Ty booked for the return flight?" she asks.

"No, I told him that, to be fair, I couldn't promise that he could fly back with me because someone else might want a turn."

"Well, you've told Sami that she's too young to fly with you, and Matt and Patty are even younger, so he _thinks _that he's riding back with you because Abigail has no interest at all in flying. I don't want him to be disappointed, so I'll take a rain check. You can take me up some other time," Mattie explains.

"If you want to make the trip back with me, then we'll make it happen. Ty may hope that he's flying back with me, but he knows that you and I don't get a chance to spend much time together and that we share an interest in flying. He'll understand if you want to fly back with me."

"I'll talk to Ty when I see him this weekend. If he's okay with me flying back with you, then I'll take you up on the ride, but if his heart seems set on flying back, then I'll let him take the seat, okay?"

"Okay." I agree, not wanting to spend time talking her into something that she may not want to do or be ready to do, at least not without taking the time to really think it over before saying yes.

"I got my paper done this weekend while I was home, but I've got some math to finish tonight so I should get off the phone, but before I do, I wanted to ask if you remembered to ask Grandma if she'd need any help at the gallery over the summer?"

Mattie said that she didn't want my mother to just give her a job because she's her granddaughter, so she wanted me to find out if my mother was considering hiring anyone. If so, she wants me to let her know so that she can apply for the position. I use the word apply loosely because Mattie and I both know that she'll have the job if she wants it, but I admire Mattie for not wanting to be given a handout. Of course, I think that Mattie is selling herself short because my mother thought that she did a wonderful job when she worked for her before and would give her a position based on that for the summer.

"No, I haven't spoken to her yet, but I'm sure that I'll be able to ask her at dinner. Since you have school in the morning, and we won't be finished with dinner until nine-thirty, ten o'clock your time, I'll call you after I get home from the office tomorrow and let you know what she said about the staffing needs of the gallery, okay?"

My suggestion is a bit more than wanting her to get her homework finished and get enough sleep before she has to get up for class tomorrow. With her pondering whether her drinking habits constitute a problem or not, I want to communicate with her more often than our weekly calls, and having a reason like letting her know that I've arrived here safely or to give her information that she's asked me to get seems a way to keep in touch without her feeling like I'm invading her space.

"Tomorrow will be fine. I'll talk to you then. Bye."

"Bye, Mattie," I say with a hint of remorse that our call has to come to an end.

A quick check of my watch tells me that I should head to the kitchen to see if I can be of any help to Frank in cooking dinner tonight.

**DINING ROOM**

**1845 LOCAL - 2145 EASTERN**

Frank takes a sip of his wine and, as he places his glass back down on the table, I wonder if I should mention to them that Mattie's starting to question if she has a problem with alcohol.

I don't have to tell them that she has a problem because we really don't know for certain that she is an alcoholic.

Even if we knew for sure, is it my place to tell people or is it Mattie's?

Maybe they need to know that she _may_ have a drinking problem since she's planning to spend the summer with us here in California.

I don't want Mattie to be tempted to drink while she's here and I'm sure that, if they were aware of the potential risk, they'd do their best to help keep Mattie from falling off the wagon.

However, there's a voice in my head, sounding remarkably like my wife, that's arguing that Mattie will need to learn not to drink for herself ... that it won't be easy for her, but if she _is _an alcoholic, she'll have to choose not to drink no matter the occasion, her location or with whom she's keeping company.

I know that the voice is right, but I want to make it as easy for her to stay sober as possible.

"Harm, have you spoken to Mac and the kids since you left there today?" my mother asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yes. I called the house, but it was too close to bedtime for them and too close to dinner time here for me to talk to anyone long. I also called and checked in with Mattie. She and I had a nice conversation, but she had homework to get to, and I wanted to see if I could be of any help to Frank in preparing dinner, so we didn't talk for very long."

"How is everyone? Aside from the obvious that they miss you, that is," she says.

My mother may have been tired after her partial day at work, but there's a brightness in her eyes as she speaks that hasn't been there in the last month.

She _is_ feeling better, and perhaps being back at work today was good for her.

"Everyone at the house is fine and is looking forward to moving so they can see the grandparents they miss."

My mother has a radiant smile at the mention of her soon-to-be-here grandchildren.

"I'm looking forward to seeing them, too!" she states excitedly. Then her smile disappears. "Wait, you said everyone at the house. Does that mean that something's wrong with Mattie?"

"She's okay, too," I say, unsure of exactly how much information to give her.

"Okay, but not good or fine...why?"

I feel like my mother is the lawyer and I'm on the stand at the moment.

"She's going through some things, that's all, so she isn't doing great, but she isn't doing poorly either. She's okay."

"Anything that we should know about concerning Mattie, Harm?" Frank asks.

"To be honest, I don't think that I know half as much as I'd like to about what's going on in her life, but I hope that changes this summer."

"What's happening this summer that you hope will lead to this change?" my mother asks.

"Mattie's decided to spend the summer here with us, which I hope means that she'll have time to fill in her dad on what's going on in her life."

"If the subject of boys comes up, are you sure that you can handle hearing it?" Frank asks in a joking tone.

"I think she's got it down to one boy now. Kevin, isn't it?" my mother asks.

"She and Kevin were seeing a lot of each other, but I'm not sure what the status of their relationship is at the moment."

"Do you think that her decision to come for the summer is motivated by a break up?" my mother asks, apparently still in lawyer mode.

"Between her back surgery and her friend's suicide, she's had a tough year, and I think that she just needs some time away with her family to clear her mind and get back some perspective."

"Does she have any idea of what she wants to do while she's here?" Frank asks.

"She does. In fact, I'm suppose to be her wingman and gather a little information for her about a possible summer job."

"Dear, she doesn't have to look for a job. She can work at the gallery for the summer," my mother declares.

"She'd like to work at the gallery, but she's concerned that you'd hire her because she's your granddaughter and not because you were in need of any help."

"I'm sure that you've told her that I haven't been well, so assure her that, without her help this summer, I stand no chance of ever being caught up. If she starts to balk at that, remind her that in waiting a few weeks for her to get here, I'll save the time, money and aggravation of having to train someone to help me. Since she's worked for me at the gallery before, she's perfect for the job."

The idea of Mattie wanting to work at the gallery seems to have my mother excited, but I guess after all the time that she spent in Virginia helping Mac and me with the family, added to the time that she's been away from the gallery because of her illness, she's probably behind on a lot of things, making Mattie look like a godsend to her.

"I told her that I'd find out if you needed help and call her tomorrow, so you should expect a call from her late tomorrow or the next day, asking you about giving her a job," I inform my mother.

"I look forward to her call," she quips before placing a delicate bite into her mouth.

"I know that their trip west may feel like it's still far in the future, but they'll be here before you know it," Frank says, once again joining the conversation.

"They can't get here too soon for me, but you're right. It won't be much longer," I comment in response.

"Any word from the tenants of your house about when they're going to be moving out?" Frank asks.

"Yes, I've spoken with them. They have plans to be out by the last weekend of the month, which, if they accomplish it, will be great. It'll give me a few days to work on the house before the movers arrive with the first shipment of our furniture."

"Working at your job and getting the house ready for your family, that should keep you plenty busy for the next few weeks...help you pass the time," Frank comments.

"When are you going back to work, darling?" my mother asks.

"Tomorrow morning, officially, but I stopped by the office on my way home to grab the case update reports and new files so that I'm prepared to assign the new cases at my staff meeting in the morning."

**HARM'S ROOM**

**2015 LOCAL - 2315 EASTERN**

I'm reading the update reports and case files that I brought home from the office when my cell phone rings.

I was expecting Mac's call, so I'd left my phone within easy reach on the bed next to my paperwork.

A quick look at the caller ID tells me that I have to wait no longer to hear from my wife.

"Hello there. I was beginning to wonder if you ever planned to go to bed tonight."

"After I got off the phone with you earlier, I tucked in everyone, took a hot bath and got ready for bed, but I didn't want to call too soon because I knew that I'd be interrupting either the meal itself or the clean up afterwards, so I've been lying in bed reading a book and waiting for a better time to call," she explains.

"I'll bet your book is more interesting than what I've been reading while I've been waiting for you to call," I reply.

"I don't know. So far, my book has been pretty boring. What have you been reading?" she asks.

"Case update reports, duty roosters for next month and a letter from the office of the SecNav that says that I need to cut my budget for next quarter by five percent."

"Well, maybe my book is more interesting," she teases.

"Maybe one of the new case files that I haven't read will prove to be a more interesting read," I joke in response.

"How many new cases do you have?" she inquires.

"Three, and I have to read them tonight so I'm prepared to assign them during tomorrow morning's staff meeting," I answer.

"We should say good night then so you can get your work done early enough that you're able to get some sleep," she says with a hint of sadness, so I don't think that she's ready to get off the phone just yet.

I'm enjoying the sound of her voice...the connection that I feel with her from just hearing it, even if only over the phone. It makes me feel close, as if I'm at least in the same house with her, but I don't want to talk about my work.

"Not yet, I want to ask you something." My voice takes on a serious tone.

"Okay," is her apprehensive response, which I'm sure is due to her wondering about the subject matter of my question.

"How are the kids doing, really?"

"They're okay, Harm," she begins. "They each have their own way of dealing with the separation. Ty chooses to focus on how many days there are until you get to come home, so I'm sure that he'll be religious about keeping up with the countdown calendar and will announce how many more days until you get here every morning over breakfast. Abigail has to hear music, whether it's a song from the CD that you made for her or a song that she plays on her keyboard before she goes to bed. Sami doesn't exhibit any quirks like that, but if your call to say good night is five minutes late, she gets sad and teary-eyed and wonders if you've forgotten about her, but the second that phone rings and she knows that it's you, she's all smiles, even before she has her turn to speak with you."

**MAC'S POV**

"Is there something that you do when I'm not there that you don't do when we're together?" he asks.

I look down at his t-shirt, the one that he wore last night. I'm wearing it in place of a nightgown tonight.

"No, nothing special."

It's a lie, but only a small one since I'll wear his shirt for only the next few nights, not the entire time that we're apart.

"How about you? Do you change your bedtime ritual when we aren't together?" I ask to take the focus off of me and put it back on him.

**HARM'S POV**

"I can't think of anything. Wait, that isn't true. I do make a habit of wearing both halves of my pajamas to bed."

"That's good to hear. I wouldn't want someone to break in and take advantage of you," she teases.

"Women don't break in to see me anymore. I hear that it's because the word's out that I married a Marine who's quite capable of defending the ground that she's taken," I tease back.

"Damn right!"

I laugh.

"It took me nine years to capture you. I'm not giving you up easily," she says partially serious but with amusement in her voice. "It's been good to talk to you, but we'll talk again tomorrow, and I know that you have work to finish before you go to bed, so good night, Harm."

"Semper Fi," I reply because, for some reason, I just can't bring myself to say good night.

I hear the smile in her voice as she softly says "good night" once more before ending our call.

Alone again with my work, I drop my cell phone next to the small stack of case files sitting beside me on the bed.

'Let's see if any of these are a good read,' I say to myself, picking up the folder on top.

I begin to read the first case, then the second and the third.

I find myself drawn back to the second case file, so I read it again.

The case seems pretty clear-cut on the surface, since there's an eye witness, according to the file.

I haven't talked to the accused, the victim or the witness, so why do I feel like there's a piece missing?

That's when I have to wonder if I'm looking for something that isn't there ... something that I can focus my attention on to keep me from missing my family so much.

I drop the file folder on top of the other two.

Why this case and not one of the other two, or all three of them if I want to keep busy?

As I begin to pick up the work that I have scattered on the bed, my internal voice reminds me that I need to remember that I'm a commanding officer now. Personally working cases is no longer supposed to be my job.

"Let it go, Harm," I mumble out loud.

The case is probably as black and white as it looks. You just want there to be more to it so that you can feel justified in participating in the case in some way to keep your plate full to help you pass the time. It's your way of dealing with separation...bury yourself in the job, and you'll be too busy to think about missing them or how long it'll be before you see them again.

Besides, when the tenants move out of our house, I'll have work there to do in order to have it move-in-ready for my family. That should keep me busy enough, and until the place is vacant, I can make up for the exercise that I didn't do while I was home this weekend by doing longer workouts each day and helping Mom and Frank out around here.

Having cleared the bed of the paperwork and crawled under the covers, it isn't until I've decided to whom I'm going to assign each of the new cases that I finally drift off to sleep and dream of the time when there's no reason for any of us to find a way to deal with separation, because my family is together under the same roof again.


	52. Chapter 52 - Part 1, Truth is Everything

**CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE -****The Truth is Everything**

**PART ONE **

**TUESDAY, APRIL 14, 2009**

**CONFERENCE ROOM**

**RLSO**

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**0840 LOCAL - 1140 EASTERN **

**HARM'S POV**

As usual, the new case assignments are the last item on the agenda for the staff meeting, and I've saved the case to which I was drawn until the very end.

"The last order of business is a case involving Chief Petty Officer Amelia Kane." Not wanting to disclose any of the particulars since I don't want my impression of this case to influence those to whom I assign it, I don't offer any more information.

"Major Shelby, you'll prosecute," I say as I hand her the first file folder. "Commander Allen, you"ll defend, and Lieutenant Tiner will assist you on this one," I add before handing him his copy of the case information.

Tiner looks surprised by my announcement.

I half-expected Commander Allen to object immediately to the orders that I'd just given, but I'm pleased that, if he has any objections about having Tiner on his team, he doesn't choose to air them in front of the others.

With no other business on my agenda and with no one seeming to have anything else to say, I end the meeting with, "That'll be all" before standing to leave the conference room.

The other officers come to their feet, and I exit the room.

**COMMANDER ALLEN'S POV**

I'm not at all happy about having to babysit the lieutenant, but I wasn't going to challenge a direct order, especially in front of my colleagues, which the captain could've taken as disrespect or refusing to carry out orders, either of which might have resulted in being brought up on charges and ruined my career. However, I don't plan to have Tiner underfoot for this case either.

I need a few minutes to think of a way to 'get around my orders'.

With the captain out of the room, I look at Tiner.

The look on his face doesn't say officer to me. It says eager to please - the kind of guy who's good at following orders, not giving them.

"I have a few calls to make on another matter. Grab your legal pad, pen and whatever else you think you'll need...and get us some coffee. We'll meet in my office in thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir," he replies with bubbling enthusiasm before he leaves the room in haste.

**COMMANDER ALLEN'S OFFICE**

**THIRTY MINUTES LATER **

**TINER'S POV**

I saw the look on the commander's face when he was told that I'd be on this case with him, so I know that he isn't happy about having to work with me, which makes me nervous because he's my section leader and in charge of writing my performance evaluation.

Commander Allen's door is open, but I tap on the door jam with one hand while trying to balance his coffee and my legal pad, pen and the case file in the other.

"Tiner, come in and sit down so we can get started on this case," Allen snaps at me.

"Your coffee, Sir," I say, placing it on his desk before taking the offered seat.

"Thanks," he says with a sneer when he glances at the cup.

"Do you have any idea what this case is about, Tiner?" he asks.

I believe that he's testing me to see if I took the initiative to review the case before I came into his office.

"Yes, Sir. Chief Petty Officer Amelia Kane is being charged with the attempted murder of Master Chief Gabriel Hollenbeck, Sir."

I stop my answer there because I'm unsure of how much detail the commander is interested in hearing from me.

"So you did read the file while you were waiting for me?"

"Yes, Sir," I reply.

"Then you know that, based on the evidence that the prosecution has, our only hope of escaping the embarrassment of losing this case is to arrange a deal for our client."

"Sir, I know that you have more experience with this kind of case, but I disagree about trying to reach a plea agreement at this stage. We haven't even spoken to our client yet," I state, respectfully disagreeing with him.

"That's right! I have more knowledge in these matters, and I say that we tell our client that we need to make a deal...and not that I have to explain myself to you, but for the purposes of your education, let me tell you why we want to make a deal and why we want to do it now!"

I find his tone both insulting and intimidating.

"There's the evidence. They were heard arguing in her apartment thirty minutes before he was found stabbed in the parking lot of _her_ apartment complex. The bloody knife, which the lab report clearly states was the weapon used in the crime, along with the hoodie with the victim's blood on it that the attacker was wearing, according to an eyewitness, was found in the dumpster directly behind her apartment building."

"The witness couldn't make a positive ID of our client because he said that he couldn't see the attacker's face, making what you've mentioned all circumstantial evidence, Sir." I say, risking his further wrath by interjecting something into his rant.

"It may be circumstantial, but too much coincidence adds up to a guilty verdict, Lieutenant, and I don't need a loss on my record, and you don't want one either...not on your first case. It's the quickest way to make your first case also your last."

"What about what our client wants? Shouldn't we wait until we've spoken to her before we recommend anything, Sir?" I ask, trying to stand by my concern that his assessment of the case is premature, but not wanting to risk court martial, my tone is cautionary.

"It's our job to act in the best interest of our client, and sometimes that means giving them the cold, hard facts. In this case, it means that we need to make her understand that making a deal, if we can get them to make one when they're going into court with this much evidence against her,_ is _in her best interest."

I start to speak, but he holds up his hand, his palm towards me in the universal sign for stop.

"Before you ask why the rush to make a deal, there are two parts to that answer. First, the longer we let them investigate, the more likely it is that they'll come up with something more that will seal a conviction. The second is because the victim is in critical condition. If he should die before we've gotten a deal negotiated, it'll give them the opening to amend the charge to murder. Our client is much better off if we can get a completed deal on the lesser charge of attempted murder in case he dies."

What he says makes sense, but I don't think that he's giving our client a chance. He's assuming that she's guilty based on what we've read in a file.

Though I have to admit that the reports and eyewitness account are incriminating evidence against our client, I see room for doubt. However, he is my superior and sitting first chair on this case, so I need to follow his lead.

"What's our next move then, Sir?" I ask.

"We go to the brig and lay out the case for our client."

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**RLSO **

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**1230 LOCAL - 1530 EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

There's a knock on my door.

"Enter."

"Captain Rabb," Commander Joshua Allen states, coming to attention in front of my desk.

"At ease," I order, and he relaxes. "What's on your mind, Commander?"

"Captain, I'd like to speak to you about the case that you assigned me this morning, or more precisely, ask why you assigned the lieutenant to assist me on the case, Sir."

"Do you question his ability to be of help to you?"

"Yes, Sir. No, Sir."

"Do explain yourself, Commander," I say firmly while wondering how he could have assessed Tiner's abilities in less than the four hours that he's been assigned to this case with him.

"I don't question that he has potential, Sir." He sounds like he's backing down from his stand of just seconds ago. "He's just green, and his inexperience shows, Sir."

'Of course he's green! That's why he wasn't assigned the case alone,' my inner voice screams at the commander, but outwardly, I remain calm.

"You came into see me why, Commander? Was it to ask me to reconsider my previous orders and ask that I remove Tiner as your co-counsel, or you from the case and thus have the lieutenant assist someone else?"

"Either, Sir. The lieutenant and I just don't see this case in the same way, and I don't believe that I can work with him, Sir...not on this case."

"I see. Have a seat, Commander," I say as I contemplate what my response should be to his request.

I press the intercom button that connects me with the outer office and my yeoman.

"PO Howard, have Lieutenant Tiner join the commander and me, please."

"Yes, Captain. Right away, Sir," my yeoman responds.

I release the intercom button and look Commander Allen in the eye.

We maintain eye contact in silence until Tiner comes through the door and snaps to attention.

"Lieutenant Tiner reporting as ordered, Sir."

"Have a seat, Lieutenant," I order.

"Yes, Sir," Tiner responds before quickly sitting in the chair next to Commander Allen.

"The commander seems to think that the two of you aren't compatible partners, Tiner. Do you agree with him?" I question.

I see a flash of fear in Tiner's eyes. He doesn't want to cross swords with Allen, but they're definitely not seeing eye-to-eye on this case.

"I wouldn't say that we aren't able to work together, Sir," Tiner states before looking at Allen for the first time since he entered the room. "If I offended you with my questions, I apologize because it certainly wasn't my intention to offend you, only to learn, Commander."

A smile threatens to appear at the corners of my mouth at the smooth way that Tiner has worded his response."

"I wasn't offended, but we obviously don't agree on this case," Commander Allen states, addressing Tiner directly as if I'm not in the room.

"That's true," Tiner says, looking at me.

"About my request, Captain..." Allen begins.

"Commander, is it safe for me to assume that, in the past five hours, your investigation has yielded nothing that would keep you from working on the prosecution of this case? I ask, using the word 'investigation' loosely because there's no way that he would've had time to do much more than read the file and speak with Chief Kane, at best.

"No, Sir." I can see that he wants to ask why I asked him that, but he knows that he's already bordering on insubordination for questioning my decision in the first place.

"Then you can assist Major Shelby on the prosecution side of this one."

Commander Allen opens his mouth, and I'm sure that it's to object to being assigned second chair since he's the senior officer, but he thinks better of saying anything and closes his mouth before uttering one syllable.

Perhaps he's been able to answer his own question. Sitting second chair to the major is my way of being sure that he understands my displeasure at his bailing out on the lieutenant.

"Yes, Sir," Allen says, acknowledging the change in his orders.

"That'll be all, Commander," I inform him in my best impression of my former Seal CO so that it's understood that I'm actually telling him to 'get the hell out', another sign of my being displeased with the way that he's conducted himself on this assignment.

"Aye, Sir," he says, getting to his feet.

The door has barely closed behind Allen when Tiner speaks up.

"Captain Rabb, I appreciate you standing up for me, Sir...and I don't mean to sound like I'm questioning your decision, Sir, but you do realize that I'm now alone in facing the commander _and_ the major in court."

"I didn't say that you were flying solo on this case, did I, Tiner?" I ask.

"No, Sir, but you did just excuse the first chair, Sir, so you can see how I might get the impression that I'm on my own, can't you?"

I smile.

"I can, Lieutenant, but not to worry. You won't be alone because I have someone in mind to work with you. However, for the sake of conversation, let's say that I didn't assign anyone else to the case. What would be your next move?"

"Since I think that I would've handled the interview differently and because there isn't much back-tracking to do because we were just getting started, I'd want to start over, which means that I'd go back to the brig and speak with Chief Kane again," Tiner answers.

"Do you think that she's innocent, Tiner?" I ask.

"I don't know, Sir. Maybe, maybe not...I just don't think that the evidence makes the case as black and white as Commander Allen sees it."

"Cases rarely are as clear-cut as they appear on paper," I comment while taking a breath to consider our next move.

"Since you've seen our client once already, I don't think that seeing her again today would be a productive use of our time. We can notify her of the change in lead counsel the next time we need to meet with her to discuss any findings or to ask questions about what we've learned during our investigation. I think that our next move should be to talk to the eyewitness."

Tiner's eyes are glazed over, and I wonder what caused it.

Taking a stab at the reason behind his deer-in-the-headlights look, I ask, "That is, unless the two of you didn't get her statement while you were there today. Allen did at least let her tell her side of the story, didn't he?"

"Yes, Sir." he says, snapping out of his daze to answer my question.

"Then do you disagree with the way that I suggest that we proceed?" I ask.

"No, Sir."

"Then what's the problem, Lieutenant?"

"You used we and our, Sir. Does that mean that _you're_ taking the case?"

"Yes, Tiner, that's exactly what it means," I answer.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

The tone of his response reminds me of my son, Tyler, when he opened one of his Christmas presents, the one containing the number one item on his want-list a few months ago.

"No reason to thank me, Tiner. I'm not going to be working alone. You're going to be earning your spot."

Perhaps he doesn't realize that my first priority is running this office, meaning that, at times, he may feel as if he _is_ working alone.

I also have a problem excepting thanks for something that was akin to the first thought that I'd had when I read this case.

After I read through the file last night, there was just something about it. It was too neat. Every piece of evidence fit together too easily. I was so convinced that there was more to the case that I almost assigned it to myself in the first place, taking Tiner on to do legwork for me - much the way that Mac and I mentored Bud.

It's the black and white appearance of the evidence that made me want to put Tiner on the case. If I'm right and there's more to the case than we see on paper, it's a perfect example of how often it isn't the evidence that you need to challenge, but rather how that evidence is put together to become a complete story that's the key to arguing a case. If I'm wrong, it's a case that will give Tiner an opportunity to get his feet wet on a higher-profile case than he's been assigned up until now, and that experience will be good for him, too. It's a win-win for Tiner.

However, last night, after reminding myself that being a commanding officer had to be my first priority, I decided that it was better for all concerned for me to assign the case to someone else in the office.

Why did I choose Allen to be first chair for the defense and not Shelby?

I can't honestly answer that.

I'd like to think that I did it because I believed that, based on what I've seen since I've been here, he was the kind of attorney that searched for the truth and would teach Tiner that lesson. I also thought that Allen would feel honored to be asked to share his knowledge and talents by mentoring an up-and-coming attorney.

Perhaps my motives were more selfish, and I chose him because some part of me suspected that he'd balk at the task and want out, allowing me to have an excuse to put myself on the case as I'd wanted to do originally.

Either way, I've learned something about Allen in the process, and that's that he may not be the officer or even the lawyer that I'd thought he was, but I'll deal with those issues later.

Right now, I've got to work on balancing my command responsibilities with defending a client in a manner that sets an example of my expectations for my staff.

"Tiner, the doctor's report on the victim isn't current. I want you to find out the master chief's condition. Because of the medical privacy act, you may be wasting your time calling Balboa, so I want you to go there and get a status report on his current condition. He had to see who attacked him, so if he's ready to make a statement or will be able to make one in the next few days, we might be able to wrap up this case without spending a lot of time on a full-scale investigation."

"I thought you wanted to meet with the eyewitness next, Sir," he says.

Bud Roberts would have taken the orders in and handled each one.

I'll have to take special care to remember that Tiner isn't Bud and that he may need more guidance in some areas, especially since this is his first 'big' case. Not only is he sitting second chair to a senior officer, but since that same officer is also his CO, there could be a little extra stress at work in Tiner's case that wasn't present for Bud.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I clarify my instructions.

"I want you to set up an appointment to speak to the witness. You want to interview eyewitnesses as soon as possible because, often the trauma of witnessing a crime causes spotty recall when they're questioned at the scene, but once they've begun to process what happened, they sometimes remember something that wasn't in their original statement, which doesn't always solve the case, but it may give you a new angle or a lead that you need to get to the truth. You also want to get them to recall what they remember as soon as you get the case because, unfortunately, over time, unless they were the victim or one of the victims, the brain has a way of letting the event fade, bringing you full circle, back to spotty recall. Now, once you've gotten an appointment set for us to speak to the witness, I want you to go over to Balboa and get a medical update on the master chief because I'm sure that the prosecution will be coming to us at the end of the week to offer a deal, and I want us to have a better understanding of the case so that we're prepared to offer our client sound advice based on what we know, not on what we think we know after reading a few reports in a folder. Any questions about your assignment now, Tiner?"

"No, Sir."

"Then get to it, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Captain Rabb, right away, Sir," he says, jumping to his feet.

He's about to turn the doorknob when I add two more simple instructions to his list.

"Let me know ASAP when you have an appointment set with the witness so that I have time to clear my calendar, if necessary, to meet with him. I also want to hear about the condition of the master chief as soon as you know."

"Yes, Sir," comes his reply as he bounds out the door, no doubt eager to get to work.

**MAJOR MIRANDA SHELBY'S OFFICE**

**SAME TIME**

**MAJOR SHELBY'S POV**

"You look a little pale, Commander. What's up?" I ask as Commander Allen enters my office through the door that I'd left open.

"I just came from Rabb's office."

"I heard that you were looking to lose the lieutenant because he disagrees with your approach to that case that we were handed this morning. How'd it go?"

"I'm not sure, but I think that our CO may have lost his mind over the Easter holiday. He just assigned me to sit second chair to you and is leaving Tiner to defend on his own...against us..." He indicates with a motion of his hand that indicates that he's referring to him and me. "...in what is clearly an open and shut case."

"Rabb wouldn't team his two best attorneys as prosecutors and leave someone with little experience to defend on their own. You must have misunderstood, or the captain just didn't see fit to tell you who he'd be assigning to work with Tiner," I suggest.

"I didn't misunderstand my being reassigned to the prosecution," he says with indignation.

"Punishment..." He eyes me curiously. "... perhaps to express his displeasure with you for not wanting to work with Tiner," I inform him.

"As far as giving Tiner another partner, the next best lawyer in this office isn't going to stand a chance against us," Allen states, not acknowledging my comment in any way.

Mentally reviewing the list of competent lawyers in the office, I hate to agree with the commander, but he's right. There really isn't another attorney with our experience who would stand a chance of winning a case against the two of us, especially in a case like this where the time line and evidence all fit so nicely into place."

I choose to move onto more important matters than admitting to Allen that he's right _this_ time.

"If you're on my team, how do you feel about offering a deal?"

"I'm fine with pleading it out, but if Tiner's in charge of the defense, I can tell you that he isn't interested in making a deal," Allen replies.

"Then let's hope that Tiner isn't in charge, and we can resolve this quickly and get back to the usual way of doing things around here ... you and me opposing each other."

I'm about to suggest that we meet later to go over strategy in the case after I've had a chance to finish the report that I was working on when he strolled uninvited into my office, when an idea suddenly pops into my head. Though I've never seen him in court, from what I hear, there may be one person who's a match for us.

"You don't suppose that Captain Rabb would take on the case, do you?" I ask.

Commander Allen's eyes go wide with surprise, but he quickly regains his composure and replies, "No, he's got command responsibilities. He wouldn't want to put any more on his plate."

Then Allen suddenly goes pale.

"You don't suppose that's why he let me off the case so easily...because he's going to take the case, do you?"

"I know if I were the commanding officer of this unit, I wouldn't want to add anything extra like a case to my plate, but that's me. I've heard that Rabb is a real go-getter, so we may see him step into the courtroom while he's in command. I just wish, if that's the case, that we weren't the first ones to go up against him. I hear that he's good, and I'd like to see him in action to get a feel for his style before opposing him in court."

"We shouldn't have to go up against him in court. We've got a solid case. If he's all that good, he'll be able to see that and want to take us up on our offer to reach a plea agreement," Allen says confidently.

"True," I comment as my suspicious nature begins to wonder if the captain is using this case to test us in some way. "If Captain Rabb _is_ on this case, we have to be sure that we're doing everything by the book. So, first we need to find out the current condition of the victim. If he's able to talk and can ID their client as his attacker, then we'll take this thing to court and go for the maximum punishment. However, if he's unable to give us a positive ID for any reason, we'll make them sweat it out for a few days, say until Friday, and then we'll offer their client a deal. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

**1512 LOCAL - 1812 EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

Needing to stretch and give my eyes a rest as well as my brain that's been working overtime trying to piece together the case that I've taken on while figuring out a way to cut five percent from the RLSO budget, I leave my office.

Stepping outside my door, my yeoman jumps to his feet.

"Captain Rabb," he says, coming to attention.

"As you were," I order, and for the first time I note that my advanced rank does have at least one - other than budget issues - draw back. I can't leave my office to go to the head without causing at least one person to scramble to their feet.

"Captain..." Howard says, beginning to relax. "...Lieutenant Tiner stopped by twice to see you in the last ten minutes while you were on the phone. If the lieutenant comes by again while you're out of the office, what should I tell him?"

"Tell him to wait here. I won't be gone long," I answer.

**1527 LOCAL - 1827 EASTERN**

On the way back to my office, I make a stop at Commander Allen's office. He isn't in, and I'm not sure where the commander is...not far I'd assume since he left the lights on in his office, but it doesn't matter. I really didn't want to see him. I was interested in seeing the office itself.

His door is locked, and I can't see well through his blinds. However, from what I can see, his office doesn't look like it needs to be repainted.

I also stop at Major Shelby's office. Her office is dark. She isn't in her office either, but I know that she's in court. I was just hoping to get a look at how the walls look in her office, too.

Mulling over if office refurbishing is really necessary to include in next quarter's budget, I continue my trek back to my office.

Approaching the outer office, the one where my yeoman performs his duties, I see someone pacing in front of Howard's desk.

I speculate, take an educated guess really, that Tiner returned while I was out of my office and is impatiently waiting for me.

"Do you have something to tell me in regard to our talk this morning, Tiner?" I ask, not wanting to discuss any part of the case in the open.

"Yes, Sir."

"Then let's step into my office."

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**TINER'S POV**

Once the door is closed behind us, the captain asks as he makes his way to sit behind his desk, "When can we talk to the witness?"

I could tell the captain that I called early this morning and found out a lot of information about the man from his wife. For example, he drives a truck for a living and he's out of town on a run right now. I waited hours to hear from him, and when I did speak with him, he sounded apprehensive about talking to us, but none of that answers his question.

"He said that eleven hundred on Friday worked best for him," I reply.

"I was hoping to meet with him sooner than that," Captain Rabb says, and his tone doesn't suggest that he's angry about the time, just disappointed.

"He's out of town on business, and it's the earliest that he can meet with us," I reply.

I know that I was only trying to explain the reason for the meeting being three days away, but I made it sound more like an apology with my tone.

"Well, if that's the earliest that we can meet with him, then Friday at 1100 it is. Now, what about the condition of the victim? Do you have that information as well?"

"Yes, Sir. They had to take him back into surgery to stop some bleeding. When they got in there, they found that several of his sutures had pulled out, probably from his moving around because of the pain that he was in, so, to give the stitches time to set and the wounds to begin to heal, they've put him in a medically induced coma. The doctor said that, ideally, he'd like to keep him in that state for the next five days and then ease off the meds to let him slowly come out of it and back to a conscious state. He said that means that it'll be at least a week, maybe even ten days before he'll be lucid enough for us to talk to him."

"It doesn't sound like we're going to be able to do much for our client until Friday, so, if you hear something from the hospital or the out-of-town witness before then, you let me know. In the meantime, we both have other work to do."

"Yes, Sir," I say, prepared to be dismissed, but before the captain does so, he asks me an odd question.

"Before you go, Tiner, I've got a question unrelated to our case. Is there anything wrong with your desk?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Sir," I say, caught off guard by the question.

"I mean do the drawers slide okay? Are all four legs sturdy? That sort of thing."

"Yes, Sir. My desk is fine, Sir."

"Thank you. That'll be all," he says before looking down at the mound of papers on his desk.


	53. Chapter 53 - Part 2, Truth Is Everything

**PART TWO **

**FRIDAY, APRIL 17, 2009 **

**CONFERENCE ROOM**

**RLSO**

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**0840 LOCAL - 1140 EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

"Keep me appraised," I say in response to having just received an oral update on a case, a routine part of the Friday morning staff meeting agenda.

"I don't have any new cases to assign this morning, so if there's nothing else..." I pause to give someone the opportunity to speak up.

"Captain Rabb," Major Shelby says to get my attention.

"What is it, Major?" I ask.

"Sir, you didn't ask for an update on the Kane case."

"No, I didn't," I reply.

Putting myself on the case puts me in the loop of the defense, and though the prosecution shouldn't have anything to hide since my side is entitled to see all the evidence through the rules of discovery, I feel that asking the prosecution for an update when I'm privy to the details of the open case isn't a productive use of our time during the staff meeting.

"Just prior to our staff meeting, we presented Tiner with an offer that would resolve the matter by the end of the day. I bring it up here, Sir, only because I'm concerned that the lieutenant's lack of experience with this type of case may make it difficult for him to express to his client the importance of avoiding a trial, given the evidence that we have against her." Shelby pauses briefly before continuing, "I'm sure that you'd agree that having both parties reach an agreement would save time as well as money."

Though I haven't made an announcement that I've joined Tiner on this case, it's funny that this tidbit of information has failed to make it into the scuttlebutt around the office, but the news that our budget needs to be cut has been fodder for the rumor mill from practically the moment that I got the call from Krennick.

"First, Major, let me be clear that we will _not_ settle cases for the sake of our budget. I will not allow finance to be a consideration when it comes to clearing cases. There's no price tag on finding the truth or in the pursuit of justice. Is everyone clear on that?"

After getting a "Yes, Sir," from the group, not quite in unison but close, I move on to the matter of the Kane case.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason why Shelby brought up speaking with Tiner about a deal was to throw him off or to embarrass him because this is his first major case, and the thought doesn't sit well with me.

"The Kane case didn't slip my mind, but I didn't feel the need to call a special meeting to announce it. Quite frankly, I thought the news would be out and travel faster than I could call a meeting, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Though it isn't standard procedure, when Commander Allen was unable or unwilling to handle the defense on the Kane case, I assigned myself to first chair, so I'm already up to speed on the case and saw no reason to use time during our meeting to get an update." My tone is curt, and though I mentioned Allen by name, I never broke eye contact with Major Shelby.

I continue in a softer tone but still maintain a tone of authority.

"Tiner did inform me of the terms of the plea agreement that you offered before we convened this morning. We'll be speaking to our client later today, and among our topics will be the deal that you've put on the table. Tiner or I will let you know what her answer is by the end of the day."

"Yes, Sir," Major Shelby acknowledges.

"If there's nothing else, we all have work to do," I say, bringing an end to our morning staff meeting.

**MAJOR SHELBY'S POV **

**AS RABB LEAVES THE ROOM**

There had been no formal announcement, just speculation by the some members of the senior staff, but during my brief and stinging exchange with Captain Rabb, he left no room for doubt. If this case goes to trial, Allen and I won't be going up against the inexperienced lieutenant alone but our CO, a seasoned and, by all accounts, a very formidable opponent, as well.

I feel that Allen and I are in a no-win situation. If we go to trial and lose, Rabb may question our abilities as attorneys, which will be reflected in our evaluations. If we win, the sting of being beaten by junior officers in court may cause a prejudicial slant to our marks, basically causing the same effect to our careers either way.

Allen and I need to pray that their client takes the deal.

**PARKING LOT**

**VISTA ARMS APARTMENTS**

**NATIONAL CITY, CA**

**1050 LOCAL - 1350 EASTERN**

**TINER'S POV**

I pulled into the parking lot five or six minutes ago and, so far, the only thing that the captain has done is look at crime scene photos, one after the other, again and again.

I feel that I should be doing something, but I don't know what it is and I hate to ask because my questions are a glaring reminder that I don't have any experience with cases like this and that he may have made a mistake in putting me on this case.

"Tiner," Rabb says without looking up from the photo that he currently has on top of the stack.

"Yes, Sir?" comes out as a quick and nervous reply.

"Have you ever questioned a witness in this type of criminal case before?" he asks.

"No, Sir," I reply.

"Then let me tell you that a witness to a violent crime is often rattled by what they've seen, causing them to be on edge and easily jumping off topic to avoid talking about what they saw. Not every witness will be that way, but that's why, at least for a first interview, I start by asking them to just tell me what they remember. That's not to say that in a future interview or even later in the first interview, you may have to be a little more aggressive with your questioning, but being aggressive with a witness is usually not the best way to start. Of course, the exception to the soft, friendly approach is if there's reason to believe that the witness is withholding critical information intentionally or if the evidence that's been gathered suggests that it's highly likely that they aren't just a witness but involved in the actual committing of the crime in some way."

Captain Rabb continues, "You don't want a witness to feel like they're under attack by firing off question after question. So, whenever it's possible, try not to ask more than two questions in a row, and make sure that you pause between each question long enough to give them ample time to answer. Sometimes, if you let them mull over what you've asked, they'll add something that's helpful to your case. It also helps to keep them at ease, which makes for a more productive interview."

He's stopped talking, so I think that he's finished informing me about the way that he conducts an interview and why, when he starts to speak again.

"As far as today's witness goes, I think it's best if I take the lead. If you have any questions for Mr. Estes, save them until the end. I'll give you a chance to ask them, but I think it'll be better if he has only one of us asking him questions while he's telling his account of what happened," Captain Rabb adds before reaching for the handle to open the car door.

**MR. ESTES APARTMENT**

**1106 LOCAL - 1406 EASTERN**

Captain Rabb is acting very casual, as if we're here for a social visit and not as officers of the court on an investigation.

Even though we said no thank you to the offer by Mrs. Estes to get us refreshments, she's brought in a tray of coffee and cookies anyway.

"Thank you, Mildred," Mr. Estes says to his wife in much the same way that a CO says "that will be all" to let you know that you're no longer needed in the room.

"Mr. Estes, I'd like to start by having you tell me, in your own words, what you saw that night."

Captain Rabb's tone is calm and reassuring.

Mr. Estes, who'd been sitting rigidly on the edge of his seat, drops his shoulders and leans back in this chair to a more relaxed position.

"I was coming home from work late. It must have been eight-thirty...maybe it was closer to nine. When I stepped out of my car, I heard a woman yelling."

"Could you make out what she was saying?" Captain Rabb asks.

"No."

"Okay, you heard a woman yelling. What happened next?" Captain Rabb asks to get Mr. Estes to pick up where he left off.

"I'd gotten home so late that the lot was pretty full. I had to park at the end of building one, close to the street entrance. I was too far away to make out what her words were, but I could tell that she was yelling. I figured that it was nothing...just a couple having an argument. I got my things out of my car and started up the sidewalk towards my building. As I approached where building one ends, I saw two people, a man and a woman, in the dimly lit gap between where building one ends and my building, number two, begins."

"The long building to our left as we pulled in is building one, isn't it?" Captain Rabb asks.

"That's right, and you're in building number two now," Ms. Estes confirms.

"Once you saw the couple, did you hear either one of them say anything?" Captain Rabb asks.

"No" ... "Wait, not right away, but towards the end I heard her say, "'You Bastard'," Mr. Estes replies.

"If it happened later, let's wait until we get there. Please continue from where you left off. You see a man and a woman. What happened next?"

"He turned his back to her like he was going to walk away. Then it looked like she hit him on the back, near the shoulder, but now I know that she didn't hit him. She stabbed him there."

"Mr. Estes, I know that it may be difficult, but please try to leave out what you know now and tell me just what you saw that night."

"I'll try," he replies to the instruction.

"You say that you saw her hit him on the back. Is that correct?"

"Yes, like you might do if you come up behind someone you know at a party and you want them to turn around to talk to you, but she did it with her fist, not an open hand or just fingers like a tap," Mr. Estes answers.

"What happened next?" Captain Rabb asks, keeping the interview moving forward.

"He turned around to face her. Then her hand came up, and she hit him in the chest...twice. I wondered if I should call the police, but I thought to myself, this couple's spat is none of my business. I was about to walk away, but just before I took a step, she hit him in the chest again, and this time he went down, and she went to the ground after him, hitting him again. Then she yelled, "You Bastard" as she brought down her fist to hit him again. I'd seen enough. I yelled, "Lady, I'm calling the cops". Then, she got to her feet to run, and that's when I saw that she was clutching something in her hand and I knew that she hadn't been just punching him. It was while I got out my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1 that I saw the blood on his shirt and realized that she must have been holding a knife in her hand."

"Which way did she run?" Captain Rabb asks.

"Back between the two buildings, away from me on the sidewalk," he answers.

"So that I'm sure I understand, she ran between building number one and this building, number two, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

Captain Rabb seems to think that the direction in which she ran is important enough that, for the first time since we sat down, he's making a note on his legal pad.

"Mr. Estes, I appreciate your patience with me. I have just a few more questions. You said that you could see that she was holding something in her hand, but you didn't know that it was a knife. Is that correct?" Rabb asks after lifting his head, taking his focus off his legal pad and putting it back on Mr. Estes.

"Yes, that's right."

"When you were giving the police a description of the suspect, you told them that the woman was five feet six or seven, probably about one hundred and thirty pounds, maybe less because the hoodie looked like it was too big for her, but you didn't include any physical characteristics such as eye color or complexion. If you were so close that you could see that she was clutching something in her hand, why couldn't you tell the police more about her appearance?"

"As I said, there isn't much light there, and she had the hood of the jacket up around her face so I couldn't see her face in the dim light.

What about her hands? Was she wearing gloves?"

"Now that you mention it. No, she wasn't wearing any gloves." He pauses. "Her skin was light in color."

"So it would be safe to say that, because you saw only her hands, you wouldn't be able to point her out in a courtroom," Rabb says, making it sound like a question, but apparently it wasn't because, after he made that statement, he asks, "Do you think that you'd recognize her voice if you heard it again?"

"She said only that one thing that I heard clearly, so I'm not sure if I'd recognize her voice if I heard it again...maybe though," Mr. Estes answers.

"Lieutenant," Rabb says to get my attention. "Do have any of questions for Mr. Estes?"

"No, Sir," I respond quickly.

"Thank you, Mr. Estes, for taking the time to meet with us. Before we leave, I want to ask if you have any questions for us."

"No, I don't think so...well, maybe one. What happens next? Will I have to tell the story again in court?" Mr. Estes asks.

"At this point, the local police have given jurisdiction of the case over to the military justice system, and we're still in the investigative stage. If the case does go to trial, you will be asked to appear and testify to what you saw that night."

I don't know if Captain Rabb's answer helped relieve any uneasiness about testifying or not, but it must have at least answered his question because he stands to show us out.

We've walked to the elevator in silence, but once the doors of the elevator close behind us, Captain Rabb asks, "So, what do you think of criminal investigations so far? Not as exciting as you thought, I'll bet."

"Not exciting, but interesting, Sir. Who do we talk to next?" I ask.

"We'll talk to our client later today, but right now, we're going to take a look at the parking lot and get to know this apartment complex better."

I have no idea what he means, but this case is the kind that he's known for solving, so I'm in no position to argue with his investigation style.

**PARKING LOT**

**VISTA ARMS APARTMENTS**

**HARM'S POV**

I saw the look on Tiner's face when I told him that I wanted to take a look at the parking lot. He doesn't realize that a check of every part of the case, including the location of the crime and the surrounding area is important to a thorough investigation.

He isn't thinking like a criminal attorney.

I hope that it's just taking him some time to get in the right frame of mind and not that I was wrong about him ... that he doesn't have what it takes to be an attorney who defends and prosecutes major crimes.

Now I'm questioning my motives for assigning this case to him.

Did I want out from behind my desk so badly that I saw something in him that wasn't there just so I'd have a reason to get out into the field again?

I'll have to worry about my motives and his abilities later. Right now, we have a client to defend and we need to check out the crime scene a little closer.

"Let's put our briefcases in the car. The only things that we need right now are the crime scene photos and the diagram that the police made of the location of the victim and the witness."

"Yes, Sir," Tiner says as if he's eager to learn.

Maybe I wasn't wrong.

Moments later, we're standing near our car and looking at the diagram of the apartment complex lay out.

There are five building in all. Three are directly in front of us, and two run long ways down each side. From the air, they'd look like a block style 'U' shape. The open area between the side buildings and in front of the three buildings is the parking lot, with the street running in front of the lot, crossing the top of the 'U'.

"Building two is the one we just came out of, and building one is the building running down the side on our left. To the right of building two is building three, and to its right is building four. Building five is the building that runs long ways down the side to our right." I'm talking out loud and making sure that I have the layout down.

"Our client's apartment is in building four, isn't it?" I ask to make sure that I'm right.

"Yes, Sir, number 4214," Tiner replies quickly without having to look at his notes.

"According to our witness, the attacker ran between buildings one and two..." Captain Rabb begins.

"Do you think that whoever did it lives in one of those two buildings. That would explain why she ran back to the rear of the buildings," Tiner reasons.

"It would, but don't rush to a conclusion. Did you look between the two buildings when we came out?" I ask.

"No, Sir."

"If you had, you'd have seen that there's no fence back there, so the perpetrator could easily have reached the street by going around the rear of the building," I inform him.

"...But then how did the bloody hoodie and knife get into the dumpster behind building four?" he asks, but before I can answer, he adds, "...unless Chief Kane is guilty and she ran between the buildings and then behind them until she reached her building where she shed the blood-covered hoodie and dropped the knife into the dumpster before going up to her apartment... but why leave the clothes in the dumpster? Mr. Estes had said that he was calling the police, so why wouldn't she take the stuff up to her apartment where she could try to wash them or wait to dispose of them later after the police had left the area?"

He's starting to think of possible scenarios - think of questions that need to be answered to get to the truth.

I was right. He's got the makings of a fine criminal lawyer.

"Those are all very good questions, Lieutenant."

"So, I was wrong. Our client _is _guilty," Tiner says, sounding dejected.

"I didn't say that."

"So you think that she's innocent?" Tiner states like a question.

"I didn't say that either."

"Then I'm confused," Tiner states honestly.

"Tiner, there are some lawyers who put blinders on before starting their investigation. I'm not one of them. I want to investigate until I'm sure that I've uncovered the truth and can present a clear case to the court. Unfortunately, there are times when you've exhausted all possible leads and you still aren't sure that you have the truth, but you have to defend or prosecute to the best of your ability on the facts that you _have_ been able to find. However, I don't want to leave a courtroom and not be able to say that I did everything that I could to get to the truth of what happened and that I represented the side that I was assigned to the best of my ability. I work that way because I believe that the truth is far more important than whether I win or lose in court. The truth is everything because, without it, justice cannot be truly served."

"I understand, Sir," Tiner says with a gleam in his eye, and I think that he really 'gets' my meaning.

"Sir, I know that we have the police diagram of the complex here showing the location of the attack and where the evidence was found, but shouldn't we take a look for ourselves, see what's back there? Maybe there's someplace back there where a person could hide until the police left or have a car waiting for them."

"I was about to suggest the same thing, Lieutenant, so let's have a look around. Then we'll grab some lunch before we go see our client."

"Yes, Sir," Tiner says with an eagerness that wasn't there earlier today.

**ROBERTS HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**1610 LOCAL - 1310 PACIFIC **

**MAC'S POV**

I ring the bell and knock for good measure while Patty is resting happily on my hip.

I'm relieved to see Harriet as the door begins to open because I'm rattled.

**HARRIET'S POV**

"I'm sorry that I'm running late. Patty's appointment took longer than I expected. I think I asked the doctor too many questions, and then traffic was terrible on the way back."

"No problem," I say, opening the door wide to let Mac enter.

"Patty's appointment went well, didn't it?" I ask since the normally strong Marine exterior seems to have some cracks in it.

"I guess that depends on how you judge it," Mac begins, and I definitely have the feeling that she's off her game today as she enters my home.

"Patty is below average in weight, but not dangerously so, and she hits the bottom of the chart range in height, but he said that both of those could easily be explained by her prematurity. He also said that he wasn't worried because she'd had a nice spurt of growth since her last check up. However, he did fuss at me for being two weeks late in getting her six-months check up. He also lectured me about not putting expectations on her based on her sibling when I questioned him about why Patty isn't crawling yet when, at her age, Matthew was starting to crawl."

"Then you've had quite a day, haven't you? So, what do you say to a cup of tea and a few minutes to catch your breath?"

"Sounds wonderful..." Mac says with a sigh. "...but you're probably right in the middle of making dinner. I'll just round up my kids and get out of your way. Thanks again for watching them. I probably still wouldn't be home if I'd had to drop off and pick up children at the hospital daycare center."

"...Not to mention the extra time that it takes to get the little ones buckled into their seats properly," I add, completely able to relate to what she's saying.

**MAC'S POV**

"True, so very true," I agree, knowing that she's speaking from experience.

"As for dinner, it's only a casserole. The oven is doing all the work, and there's plenty, so please stay for dinner."

I know that look in Harriet's eyes, compassion, empathy and a determination that she will _not_ take no for an answer.

"If you're sure that it won't be problem, I'd love to have tea with you and unwind a little, and not have to rush home to start dinner."

"Then I'll meet you in the kitchen after I check in on the children and let them know that you're here but that they're staying for dinner."

"Thank you, Harriet," I say with gratitude. Somehow words don't seem like enough to thank her, yet, between close friends like we are, I know that I didn't need to say anything at all. She understands.

**KITCHEN**

**ROBERTS HOME**

**MINUTES LATER**

Sipping tea while Patty sits in a highchair next to me snacking on Cheerios, I find that the tension and anxiety that was filling me when I arrived is starting to subside.

"Since piano practice was cancelled due to the holiday last week, and the week before that Mattie brought Abigail to her lesson, we haven't had a chance to talk recently. So, aside from your frustrating road trip to Bethesda today, how are things going?" Harriet asks.

"They're fine, Harriet," I answer.

"I'm sure it was great having Harm home last weekend."

"It was," I reply, feeling a warmth in my cheeks at the thought of my husband, or perhaps it's the fleeting images of him in varying stages of undress that flash through my mind that have me feeling flushed.

"It won't be much longer until we won't be able to sit here and have tea like this because you'll be in California," Harriet says with a mix of happiness and sadness.

I know that her emotions are a combination of being sad that once again the Navy is taking her dear friends away from the area, but she also knows that we'll all be happier living together in one place, and she's happy for us that soon we'll be doing just that, even if it's almost three thousand miles away from her and her family.

"That's true. Forty-two more days," I say, wondering why I decided that it was a good idea to let the kids keep those calendars. It's torture when Ty announces the new number every morning because it doesn't seem like the number is getting smaller, at least fast enough.

"Do you think that you'd reconsider moving to San Diego? I know the CO of the RLSO there. I could put in a good word for Bud, maybe get him a transfer," I say, smiling.

I know that she has her reasons for staying in the area, but it would be nice to have our long-time friends living close to us.

"It's tempting, but it isn't just about Bud's doctors anymore. It's my job. I wouldn't want to give that up. Then, there's the kids. They like their school, have friends..." Her voice trails off. I think it just hit her that I'm moving my family, and it may sound like she's criticizing my choice to transfer. "You have children now. You understand what I mean."

I'm not sure if her last sentence was a statement or a question.

"I understand," I comment to put her mind at ease that I don't blame her for wanting the stability of staying in one place.

I hope that she doesn't think less of me for not being like her and going where my husband's career takes him.

"Besides, you'll be back here before you know it," she states with certainty.

"You know something that I don't?" I ask curiously.

"No. It's just that Bud told me that Harm was almost selected as JAG when Cresswell retired, so it stands to reason that he's at the top of the list to be the next JAG once Krennick retires."

It's an idea that I hadn't given much thought to before now - how close Harm could be to becoming the next Judge Advocate General.

"You could have a point, Harriet." I pause briefly. "I've never met Krennick, but from what I've heard, she isn't going to be retiring any time soon, and then there's the current Deputy JAG ready to take her place," I state after taking a moment to think about the possibility.

"She is pretty gung-ho, but Bud says that she seems to be off her game lately. Not that she isn't on top of things, because he says that she's still running a tight ship, but that she's different in a way that reminds him of those months before the admiral announced his retirement."

**BRIG**

**32nd STREET NAVAL BASE  
SAN DIEGO, CA**

**1400 LOCAL - 1700 EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

I walk in behind Tiner, and the expression on the thirty-something women's face changes immediately to one of fear before we've said anything.

She stumbles as she tries to get to her feet.

"No need for that." I motion at her attempt to stand in the presence of a high-ranking officer, even though she isn't in uniform.

She drops back into her chair.

"You remember Lieutenant Tiner. I'm Captain Rabb. Commander Allen has been reassigned, and I've been assigned to take his place."

"Is there a reason why the commander was replaced by a captain. Am I in more trouble...did Gabe...Master Chief Hollenbeck die?" she asks timidly.

Her question explains the look of fear that transformed her features when I walked in the room. 

"The change in rank of your lead counsel has nothing to do with the severity of the charges. I was simply the one available to take over for the commander."

"Is Master Chief Hollenbeck going to be okay?" our client asks.

"Though he's currently in a medically induced coma, his doctors seem fairly certain that he'll make a full recovery."

I see her let out a breath of relief.

"I know that the commander and the lieutenant have spoken with you once, so I'm going to be asking you questions that I'm sure that you've been asked multiple times already, but I want to make sure that I have all the information possible in order to give you my advice about the deal that the prosecution is offering that we'll be discussing when we've finished going over the basics of your case."

I get a simple nod of consent.

I'd briefed Tiner on how I planned to speak with our client over lunch so that he wouldn't be surprised if my tone wasn't as friendly with our client as it had been with our witness earlier today, and that he wasn't to take the change in my demeanor as anything other than a style of interviewing, not on whether I believed her to be guilty or innocent.

"Chief, I want you to start by telling me how you know Master Chief Hollenbeck."

"We met aboard the Connie. That's the Constellation, Sir," she begins. "He was part of the ship's company, and I was with an air wing assigned to the Connie for deployment."

"What air wing?" I ask out of curiosity more than a need to know.

"HC-4," she replies.

"Helicopter squadron," I counter.

"Yes, Sir. H-60's."

Uninterested in talking about helicopters, I ask, "You met, and it immediately became a romantic relationship?"

"I wouldn't call it romantic, but we did have a relationship."

"When did it start?"

"We'd been deployed for a few weeks when he sat down next to me one afternoon in the mess hall. We talked. We met for lunches a few more times over the next couple of weeks...before anything happened between us. He was a nice guy. Six months is a long time to be away from family and friends. You get lonely."

Her last few lines seemed to be interjected more as an expression of remorse.

"Did he tell you that he was married?" I ask.

"Yes, I knew ... not at first, though. He told me after we'd been together a couple of times, but I ... we never intended for it to be more than a deployment fling, so we kept seeing each other...not that we were together every night. It was just when the loneliness would set in for one of us that we'd find a place to be alone."

"Then you got back from deployment and what happened?" I ask.

"We'd said our goodbyes the night before the ship pulled into port at North Island, and I hadn't seen or heard from him in the month since we'd returned from deployment. Then, two weeks ago, he showed up at my squadron looking for me. He told me that his wife had left him and that he needed a place to stay for a few days to clear his head. I didn't think that it was a good idea, but he said that she'd found out about us, not who I was but that he'd been having an affair while he'd been deployed. I felt partly responsible for the break up of his marriage, so I agreed that he could stay with me for a few days. He stayed for three nights on my couch, and then he told me that he appreciated my kindness and that he was going to talk to his wife about doing whatever he had to do to save his marriage."

"Did you see or speak to him between the last night that he stayed with you and the night that he was stabbed?"

"I didn't see him, but he called a few days later - on that Friday - and said that his marriage was over. She wouldn't take him back this time. He asked if he could come over. I told him no. He said that he needed a friend. 'I'm so lonely,' he said. I don't know why that line got to me. I guess because it's why we'd gotten together in the first place. I could really understand how he was feeling. He sounded like he'd been drinking, so I told him that I'd come to pick him up, and I did pick him up at a bar and took him back to my place to sleep it off, but ..." Her voice trials off.

"The two of you..." It's always hard to know what to say to finish that sentence in a case like this because she's made no secret that sex but not love was part of their relationship, yet it seems so crass of me to say 'screwed' in mixed company.

"Yes, Sir, we had sex that night, and he spent the weekend with me ... and we talked, or at least I did. I told him that he needed to stay away from me and give his wife some time to cool off. Maybe once she'd had time to get over being hurt by him, they could work it out. Besides, I didn't want to be the other woman. Then I didn't see him again until he showed up at my door the night that he was stabbed, but I didn't do it," she answers.

"Did you and Master Chief Hollenbeck have a fight the night that he was stabbed?" I ask.

"I wouldn't call it a fight because it wasn't physical, but we did have an argument."

"Why were you arguing?"

"He knocked on my door. It was after 2000, but I'm not sure of the exact time. When I answered the door, he said that we needed to talk. I told him that I'd said all I had to say the last time that he'd been there and that he needed to leave. He pushed past me. I told him to leave again. He told me to hear him out and then he'd leave if I still wanted him to. I agreed, but for some reason, I didn't feel safe with him, so I kept the door of my apartment open and stayed right there by it, clutching the knob and ready to bolt if necessary."

"Did he threaten you in any way that night or at any time prior to that night?"

"No, there was just something about him that made me uncomfortable, and that uneasiness is what made me cautious," she replies.

"After he barged in, what did he say to you?"

"He said that he'd done a lot of thinking since we'd talked last and he knew that he couldn't go back to his wife because he didn't love her anymore. He said that he was in love with me ... that all he needed to be happy was me, and he knew that I felt the same way about him."

She stops for a moment to gather her thoughts before proceeding.

"I told him that I'd heard what he had to say and that he needed to leave. It was then that he started to get loud. He said that I'd been leading him on for months. I told him that I didn't know what he was talking about, that I'd been honest with him from the start and that I wasn't interested in a relationship with him. He called me a whore. I was so angry that I yelled 'get out', and he left mumbling, calling me more names, but he left. I slammed the door, locked and dead-bolted it. I was angry, but I didn't go chasing after him and stab him. I went to the kitchen, poured myself a shot or two of vodka and downed it. Then I went to my bedroom, turned the radio on loudly enough that I could hear it in the bathroom and went to take a hot bath."

"When did you learn that Master Chief Hollenbeck had been stabbed?"

"It wasn't until the police knocked on my door to question me the next evening that I knew that he'd been stabbed and where it had happened, but it wasn't me. I didn't do it. I don't love him, but I do care about him. Why would I want to hurt or kill him?"

"The prosecution's theory is that he wanted to break things off with you that night and that you were angry when he said that he wasn't going to leave his wife to be with you."

"That isn't what happened, but even if it had, do they really think that I'd try to kill a guy for dumping me?"

"I don't know if they truly believe it, but that's what they're going to use to convince the jury if this case goes to trial, which brings us to the deal that the prosecution is offering you."

I go over the deal that Major Shelby put on the table this morning, along with my recommendation that, if she's been completely truthful with me, she shouldn't take the deal because there's still one witness who could clear her of the charges that no one has been able to get a statement from yet - the victim.

"I've told you the absolute truth. I don't want to take the deal. I'm innocent."

"Then we'll inform the prosecution of your decision," I reply before Tiner and I stand to leave.

"We'll keep you informed of our progress," I say as we stand at the door, waiting for the guard to open it to let us out.

**OUTSIDE THE BRIG**

"Tiner, I want you to check on Master Chief Hollenbeck's current condition. I also want you to find out some things about Mrs. Hollenbeck."

"Like her height and weight to see if she fits Mr. Estes description at all?"

Yes, he's definitely starting to think like a criminal trial attorney.

"That, and I want to know if she's been visiting her husband in the hospital. Also, get their home address because I think that our next interview needs to be with the victim's wife. Find out if she works outside the home as well, because I'd like to speak with her tomorrow."

"Not tonight, Sir?" Tiner asks, sounding disappointed.

"Though I admire your enthusiasm, Lieutenant, it'll take some time to get the information that I've asked for, and even if you do get the information together quickly, we don't want to inconvenience Mrs. Hollenbeck by knocking on her door in the middle of dinner. Besides, I have a few command responsibilities to take care of while you gather the information that I've asked for. We'll meet tomorrow to discuss your findings. Since tomorrow is Saturday, sleep in. We'll meet in my office at 1000 to go over the information that you've gathered and review the interviews that we did today. Then we'll take it from there."

"Yes, Sir."

"Tiner, you'll find that you won't have a lot of free time when your cases go to trial. Every night you'll be going over your notes from the testimony that day, sometimes second guessing your strategy, writing motions and a lot of other things. So, if you decide to continue in your career with the higher-profile criminal cases like this one...be home with your wife when you can."

"Yes, Sir."

With that, we get into the car to head back to the RLSO to go about our individual tasks, which for me includes not missing my set time to call home and say good night to my children.


	54. Chapter 54 - Part 3 Truth is Everything

**PART THREE**

**WEDNESDAY, APRIL 22, 2009**

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**RLSO **

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**1007 LOCAL - 1307 EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

Though I'm sitting at my desk with next quarter's budget in front of me, needing to make the final decisions on what I should cut, my mind isn't on the task because all my thoughts are on the case.

After finding out Friday afternoon that Mrs. Hollenbeck hadn't visited her husband in the hospital even once, I was sure that we were on the right track with the 'woman scorned did it' theory. However, when interviewing the master chief's wife on Saturday, I didn't get the sense that she was bitter, just tired.

I found her honesty to be refreshing ... but was it an act to fool investigators into believing that she was innocent or was...?

My mind recalls the portion of the interview that makes me doubt that the victim's wife had something to do with his attack and begins to replay the scene.

*********FLASHBACK********

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Hollenbeck Home

"Mrs. Hollenbeck, we find it a little unusual that you haven't been by to see your husband in the hospital. Is there some reason why you haven't been to visit him?" I ask.

"There is. In fact, there are several reasons," she answers.

"Such as?" I prompt.

She lets out a heavy sigh.

"The first one to come to mind is that I have two children, one of whom is mentally deficient. In our day, though I hate the word, he'd be called retarded. He needs special and nearly constant attention. I can't leave him with just anyone while I go off to the hospital for a bedside vigil."

"You said that there are several reasons. We've been told that you knew of his recent deployment affair. Is another reason because you're too angry with him to be concerned?"

"I'm concerned, as you say, because he's the father of my children, and I do call and get updates on his condition several times a day for that very reason." She takes a deep breath. "As for your theory that I'm angry with him, so angry that I'd want to hurt him, I believe that _is _where your line of questioning is going -"

"You don't think that my daughter is responsible for stabbing him, do you?" Mrs. Hollenbeck's mother asks, cutting off her daughter's response to my question.

"Mother, it's okay. They're just doing their job," Mrs. Hollenbeck states in our defense. Then she gives her mother something to do outside the room so that she doesn't hear any more of our conversation. "Will you please go check on Bobby while I finish up here?"

"Of course, dear, but before I go, I want to tell you gentlemen that the night the man who's married to my daughter was stabbed, she was right here, caring for her children!"

The master chief's mother-in-law certainly isn't a member of his fan club. She didn't refer to him as her son-in-law or even as her daughter's husband.

"I'm sorry about my mother, but she's here when he isn't, which is most of the time," Mrs. Hollenbeck states the moment that her mother is out of the room.

"Did you know about his affair?" I ask.

"Not her name, but yes, he told me about his affair, but I wasn't surprised since it wasn't his first deployment affair and I'm sure that it won't be his last. The first few affairs made me cry, but now I can't bring myself to do it. I'm just numb when it comes to him. I don't love him any more. If it weren't for the children needing their father and the medical benefits provided for Bobby by the military, I'd leave the bastard. However, I'd never hurt him or wish him dead. He's no good to me dead."

"Your mother says that you were here the night that your husband was stabbed. Is that correct?" I ask.

"Yes. My mother lives with us. She helps with Bobby and sees that I get a break when it all gets to be too much, but he was attacked on the night that she takes a cooking class. So she was out, and I was here with the children."

********END FLASHBACK********

Yes, given her situation, I found her story to be believable.

Maybe I want to believe her because, if she did attempt to kill her husband, her children may have a father, but their mother will be in jail.

Suddenly, the thought that Mr. Estes said that the woman whom he saw attacking the master chief called him a bastard connects with the fact that Mrs. Hollenbeck used that in reference to her husband during our interview.

Could she be his attacker?

Then it echoes in my head that she mentioned that he wouldn't do her any good dead...that she'd divorce him if it weren't for needing the support of the dependent health care that the military provides them.

However, that doesn't make sense because Bobby would keep his medical coverage as his dependent child... but if she doesn't know that ... would she plan an attack that would leave him badly wounded?

In the hospital, the master chief would still be in the service, so she'd be sure that the medical benefits would continue for Bobby.

She might even think that the experience of being attacked would scare him enough that he'd be less likely to stray in their relationship.

I want to know more details about the location of the knife entry points on Hollenbeck. Did any of the wounds come close to any major organs or arteries?

I also want to know if Mrs. Hollenbeck has any training that would give her the knowledge of where to stab her husband that wouldn't be fatal.

I reach for the intercom and buzz my yeoman.

"Howard, get me Lieutenant Tiner on the double," I order.

"Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir," Howard replies in acknowledgment of his orders, and I terminate our connection.

**KEVIN'S DORM ROOM**

**VIRGINIA TECH**

**BLACKSBURG, VA**

**1800 LOCAL - 1507 PACIFIC**

**MATTIE'S POV**

I rap firmly against the hollow door. I'm angry and I don't care who's studying, napping or whatever on the other side. I just want to see Kevin - now!

He opens his dorm room door, and the corners of his mouth start to turn up as if he's going to smile at me, but I'm making no secret that I'm angry, and he quickly loses that urge to grin.

"Mattie," he says kindly.

'Is he being friendly or condescending?' I wonder.

"Don't Mattie me! I get that you think that I'm a big lush, but really...you slip these..." I say, waving pamphlets in his direction. "...AA flyers under my front door. Then, when I show up here, you act like you're all surprised and happy to see me. Are you for real?"

"I _am_ happy to see you."

His smile is disarming, and my heart starts to ache because it's at this moment that I realize how much I've missed him.

"Why?" I ask, my anger gone now.

"...Did I slip them under your door?" he asks, pointing towards my hand that contains the now crumpled pamphlets.

I can only nod affirmatively as I'm rendered speechless by the look in his eyes and the caring tone of his voice.

"Mattie..." he begins as he takes my hand and pulls me gently into the room. "...you don't know how many times I wanted to come by to check on you...to see if you'd decided that your drinking was a problem, but I knew that I needed to keep my distance, give you space and time to work this out on your own. Then I realized that, by staying away, you might see that as a lack of support from me, which caused me concern because I thought that you might not ever go to an AA meeting or see a counselor if you thought that you'd be going through recovery alone, and that isn't what I was doing, so -"

"You decided that slipping these under my door would make me angry enough that I'd come to you."

"I know you pretty well, so, yes, I knew that you'd come to see me ... but only so I could tell you that, if you want to go to a meeting, see a counselor, whatever, you won't have to do it alone. I'll be there every step of the way."

My love for him being eclipsed by the feeling that he's judging me, I hiss back, "What if I know that I don't have a problem? What happens then? You'll never speak to me again? Do you need for me to be broken to be your friend?"

"I don't need for you to be broken, as you call it, but I do need the woman I love to be _well_."

Did he just say that he loves me using the present tense?

"Like with any disease,you don't get treatment until you realize that you're sick." His sincerity as he continues is clear as his eyes stay fixed on mine. "I think if you honestly answer the warning sign questions listed on the back of one of those pamphlets, you'll find that I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to see to it that you get the help that you need to put this demon in the past so that we can move into the future together without this hanging over our heads."

"To-ge-ther?" I stutter out because I can't reconcile the idea of him thinking that I'm an alcoholic and his wanting to be with me.

"Yes, Mattie. I love you, and I want us to be together, but I don't want that bottle that you drown your pain or regrets in to come between us. I'll stand by you if you want help. We'll do it together, but I won't stand by and watch you destroy yourself."

I'm choked up...touched by his words, but it can't be true. I can't be that much like my father. I am _not_ an alcoholic!

"I'm not destroying anything! You are with your insistence that I have a drinking problem. I don't, so why don't you go try to fix some other girl?" I spit out at him in anger with no remorse and no regret before I storm out of his room.

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**RLSO **

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**1540 LOCAL - 1840 EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

"Captain Rabb, I think I've gathered all of the information that you asked for, Sir," Tiner says, standing in front of my desk.

"Then take a seat and tell me what you've found," I reply.

"Mrs. Hollenbeck hasn't had any training in the medical field like nursing school, but she has taken a few classes in health, diet and nutrition, and CPR."

"That isn't enough. Her lawyer could easily explain those away by saying that she took them to take better care of her special needs child," I inform him. "What did you find out about Hollenbeck's injuries?"

"A lot actually, Sir. The doctor said that the entry patterns of the knife are consistent with a woman wielding the blade."

"How can he tell the gender of the attacker from the wounds?"

"He says the first indication is the angle at which the blade entered. Women, because they're usually shorter and have less muscle to force the blade into their victim, tend to clutch the handle in their hand and plunge it into their victim in a downward motion," he explains while simulating the action that he's describing by raising his arm, making a fist and then bringing his arm down.

"Also because of strength issues, the blade isn't sunk into the body to the hilt, resulting in wounds that are shallower in comparison to ones inflicted by a man. The doctor also confirmed that Mr. Estes' estimate on the height of the perpetrator was within the range he'd give, based on the location of the wound on the victim's shoulder," Tiner informs me.

"Did you ask the doctor any specific questions about our theory that the wounds weren't meant to kill but rather to incapacitate or scare Hollenbeck?" I inquire.

"I did, Sir. However, he couldn't be as clear on that subject, saying that it was possible, but that it was also just as possible that his attacker meant to kill him, but realizing that she wasn't strong enough to force the knife through his clothing and into him far enough to cause lethal damage, her strategy was simply to "poke him full of holes" - I'm quoting him on that - and allow him to bleed to death."

"With five entry points ..." My voice trials off as I try to process all the information that Tiner's just given me.

"Captain, since we've been able to find no direct evidence that clears our client, we're going to have to present a case that suggests that there's another viable suspect in order to cause reasonable doubt. Isn't that correct?"

"Yes. If this case goes to trial, that strategy will be our best course of action."

"Well, Sir, I hate to say it, but I don't think that we'd have any trouble with making a case that Mrs. Hollenbeck had finally had enough of her husband's affairs and decided that, if he wouldn't stop, she'd make him stop."

"I do think that we could sell that scenario in court and probably get an acquittal for our client," I say, agreeing with him, convinced that there is evidence that we could use to support our theory.

"You don't want to accuse the master chief's wife in court, though, do you, Sir? he asks curiously.

"No, I don't. Given what she said about medical benefits and that he was no good to her dead, I'm not convinced that she had anything to do with it. Then there's the fact that her mother gave her an alibi."

"Yes, Sir, but we discussed that. She could've stayed at home until her mother left, and then got a neighbor to watch the children while she stepped out. She wouldn't have been gone long. Remember, you had me drive between the Hollenbeck residence and Chief Kane's apartment and back. I made the trip in less than an hour. Even with adding the time that it took to stab the master chief, she wouldn't have been gone longer than ninety minutes. She would've been home before her mother returned to the house."

"We did discuss that in one of our meetings," I say before starting to put more thought into a possible third scenario.

"Tiner, what if Hollenbeck wasn't attacked by a current scorned woman, but one from his past?" I suggest.

"That's possible, Sir." He pauses before asking, "Captain Rabb, are criminal cases always hard like this one with so many possible answers, and you have no way of knowing which one is right?"

"Not all of them, Tiner, and this one may get really easy in the next couple of days when the master chief wakes up if he can tell us who attacked him."

**HOLLENBECK HOME**

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**2008 LOCAL - 2308 EASTERN**

**MRS. HOLLENBECK'S MOTHER'S POV**

I answered the phone so I know the person on the other end is a nurse from the hospital where that good-for-nothing husband of hers is being treated.

I watch my daughter's face as she listens, but they reveal no clue as to what she's learning from this call.

Unable to read my daughter's thoughts, I wait to hear the news.

She shows no emotion as she places the receiver back in the cradle.

"Did he die?" I ask.

"No," she says softly.

She spoke only one word, but I detected a hint of some underlying emotion. I think it's safe to assume that it's either regret or relief.

"What did they say?" I ask, my curiosity not allowing me to let her tell me at her own pace.

"As I requested, the nurse called because there's been a change in his condition. He's out of the coma and, though he's still sedated to some degree and may not know I'm there, he's asking for me."

I see it in her eyes as she repeats the quote from the nurse, 'he's asking for me', and it unnerves me.

"You aren't seriously considering going to see that man, are you?" I ask, not masking my displeasure at the thought that she'd go to him.

Her eyes are glazed over and her face is expressionless.

"Do I have to remind you that, just a few short weeks ago, he stood in this living room and told you that not only had he had another affair, but that he was in love with her and that he was leaving you?"

My blood boils as I think of the way that she cried after he left that night.

"Mother, he's my husband," she states as if his sins had been washed away by the blood that he'd lost.

"You aren't seriously going to take that man back, are you?" I snap at her.

"Regardless of anything that he's done to me..." She points down the hall towards the bedrooms. "...he is their father. I can't - I won't turn my back on him when he needs me."

I don't like the way that she dodged the question that I asked her.

"He calls your name and, just like that, you're on your way to his side? Why?" I ask, trying to get an answer from her.

"I know that Daddy cheated on you and that makes you especially sensitive to my situation. So I'm truly sorry that you overheard his confession about his affair with that woman, the one that's now accused of stabbing him, because now you don't see him as anything other than the man who hurt your daughter. I can know that he hurt me but look past it for my children's sake, and right now, their father needs someone, and he's asked for me," she explains. "The children are asleep, so will you please check on them in a little while? I won't be gone long."

"Of course, I'll watch the children." That's all I say in response as she begins to gather up her purse and keys to leave for the hospital.


	55. Chapter 55 - Part 4, Truth Is Everything

**PART FOUR**

**FRIDAY, APRIL 24, 2009**

**CONFERENCE ROOM**

**RLSO**

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**0830 LOCAL - 1130 EASTERN **

"I know that there have been a multitude of rumors circulating through this office about what I'm going to do to meet the required budget cuts in the next quarter. Perhaps you've wondered if I'm going to do nothing, let the deadline pass and let someone in Washington decide what needs to be cut. Well, wait no longer. I've submitted a revised budget, and it's been approved," Harm said, getting down to his first order of business.

"Are we losing any staff, Sir?" This question came from a junior attorney, worried that he was going to have to go home tonight and tell his new bride that he was going to be transferred sooner than he'd communicated to her prior to their wedding.

This topic wasn't where Harm had wanted to start announcing the cuts, but it was the worst part. Once it was out in the open, none of the rest would seem so bad.

"No one will be transferred out before their regular rotation date, but we are going to lose five billets. Three are in support services, so you'll have to learn to use the copy and fax machine yourself. The other two do affect the number of attorneys that we'll have in the office. Two of you are due to rotate out in the next quarter, but no one will be rotating in to replace you. Though this will cause an increase in case loads across the board, we'll rely more heavily on reservists to handle the less time consuming, low profile cases such as the shoplifting ones that come through this office on an almost daily basis."

Harm paused to give his team of attorneys a moment to absorb what he'd just told them.

He could have sworn that he could hear the sound of people's minds trying to figure out who in the room had been here the longest and would be rotating out soon.

"Does this cut in personnel mean that you'll be taking on more cases, Sir?" Major Shelby asked.

"I'm not planning to put myself into the pool when I'm handing out cases. However, I can't say that I won't take on a case from time-to-time, especially if it'll help to keep the office from getting back-logged."

The way Commander Allen's spine stiffened at the answer to the major's question told anyone who noticed that the idea of opposing or sitting second chair to his CO in court didn't sit well with him.

"One last thing of note on the budget before we move on to our normal agenda. Repainting the offices has been cut from the budget, too."

**ROOM 425**

**BALBOA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER**

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**1100 LOCAL - 1400 EASTERN**

"Gabe, I need to get back to the house. I don't want to put the load on mother all day, but I'll come back tonight after the children are in bed to visit for an hour or so, okay?"

Seeing her husband that first night that she'd come to the hospital, flat on his back, pale, IV in his arm and looking helpless, had brought feelings to the surface that she'd thought were no longer there.

She'd told herself repeatedly that she didn't love him, that she couldn't love a man who treated her the way Gabe had, but seeing him in that hospital bed had made her realize that she hadn't stopped loving him. She'd just buried that fact deep inside herself.

She'd come to the hospital that first time for her children, but she'd been returning since then because _she'd_ wanted to be there.

Part of her wondered if what he'd been through would cause him to have an awakening of who he is, or at least who he used to be, and they could be happy together again.

She placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Do you want me to bring you anything when I come back this evening?" Mrs. Hollenbeck asked lovingly.

"No, I ..." His sentence died there because the door opened and in stepped two naval officers.

"Master Chief Hollenbeck, I'm Captain Rabb and this is Lieutenant Tiner. We need to speak with you about what happened the night that you were attacked."

"I know that you have a job to do, but can't questioning him wait until he's recovered at least enough to be at home?" Mrs. Hollenbeck asked.

"We've spoken to his doctor who's assured us that he's both lucid enough and well enough to answer our questions today," Harm replied.

"It's okay," Master Chief Hollenbeck said to his wife while squeezing her hand. "I'll talk to them now, though I don't know that I can be of any help. I don't remember being attacked."

While he spoke his last sentence, his focus was no longer on the navel officers but on his wife.

**HARM'S OFFICE**

**RLSO **

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**1200 LOCAL - 1500 EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

In front of this wife, Hollenbeck said that he had no memory of that evening.

When I had Tiner step out of the room with Mrs. Hollenbeck, the master chief did tell me that he remembered going to see our client to discuss their relationship. However, he maintained his claim that he had no recollection of anything that happened after his arrival at her apartment.

Though I've investigated enough of these types of cases to be aware that there _is _the possibility that he's blocking the memory of the traumatic event and not withholding information intentionally, for Tiner's educational benefit, we questioned Hollenbeck's doctor to get his opinion.

Hollenbeck's doctor would say only that it's _possible_ that he's suppressing the memory. However, he declined to speculate any farther because mental health isn't his area of expertise.

During our discussion in the car after leaving the Hollenbecks at Bolboa, Tiner and I agreed on two things: We could understand if Hollenbeck had blocked the memory of the attack, but found it unlikely that he didn't remember anything that happened between his arrival at the Kane apartment and his attack, and secondly, that Mrs. Hollenbeck's attitude towards her husband had apparently changed since we'd spoken to her last.

The first indication that we had to the latter assumption was the fact that she was at the hospital with him. The other indicators were much less obvious but clearly there. For example, she wanted to protect him from our questioning, and the way that she looked at him while he answered our questions indicated that she was concerned about what his answers would be or how they would effect his current condition.

The master chief's actions during our interview also fed into our scenario that Mrs. Hollenbeck was still a prime suspect for being his attacker.

"I'll talk to them now, though I don't know that I can be of any help. I don't remember being attacked," he'd said as he'd held her hand, and the last sentence that he'd spoken, his focus had moved from us to his wife.

However, something as subtle as the way a person looks at someone can't be submitted as evidence in court ... and even if it were presentable, in this case, the prosecution would suggest that it wasn't the actions of a man conveying, "don't worry, I'm not going to tell them what you did", but rather a man looking to his wife for support during a difficult time.

The buzz of my intercom pulls me from my reverie.

"What is it?" I question after pressing the talk button on the intercom.

"Lieutenant Tiner is here to see you, Sir."

"Send him in," I state before releasing the button on the intercom.

**HOLLENBECK HOME  
SAN DIEGO, CA**

**1330 LOCAL - 1630 EASTERN**

After talking about it in my office, Tiner and I still had nothing to support our scenario that Mrs. Hollenbeck had committed the crime or had hired someone else to do it. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Given the honesty with which she'd seemed to answer our questions, and her demeanor during our initial interview, neither of us thought that Mrs. Hollenbeck was guilty. However, we believe in the innocence of our client as well.

A major stumbling block for us is that we have no evidence that Mrs. Hollenbeck knew the identity of the woman who her husband was seeing, let alone where the woman lived, and without being able to connect her to the crime in some way, we had no plausible alternative suspect to present in court.

After nearly forty-five minutes of discussion, I told Tiner that we needed one of two things: evidence that Mrs. Hollenbeck knew with whom he'd had the affair or a confession, and that a second interview with her, one with a little more grit to the questioning might yield some answers or at least give us a clue where to look to find the missing pieces.

After a brief call to the hospital to check with the nurses' station to be sure that she wasn't there with her husband, Tiner and I had left the RLSO for the Hollenbeck home.

"Captain," Mrs. Hollenbeck says in polite greeting, but it isn't a warm welcome.

"We're sorry to drop by unannounced, but we do have a few more questions that we'd like to ask you, and we didn't think that you'd want us to ask them in front of your husband."

"I thought that you might want to talk to me again," she replies.

"You did?" Tiner blurts out.

"Yes. Come in and I'll explain," she comments as she opens the door wider to let us enter her home.

"Please, gentlemen, let's go to the living room where we can all be seated comfortably," she says, stepping past us to lead the way to the other room.

"Mother, keep an eye on the children. I have guests," she calls out.

"Who's here, dear?" a voice questions from down the hall.

"The lawyers from the other day," she answers.

Once we're all seated, she immediately begins to explain.

"I was expecting you back because I thought that you might think that I'd lied to you about my feelings for my husband."

"You did lie to us about that, causing us to question what else you could have lied about or covered up," I comment.

"No, I didn't lie...well, except to myself. You have to understand. I was so hurt after I found out about his first affair that I told myself so many times that I didn't love him any more that I started to believe it, but when I saw him lying in that hospital bed, I couldn't keep lying to myself. I don't know why after what he's done to me...to our marriage. I don't know if he deserves my love, but God help me, I do love him."

"You told us two days ago that he'd do you no good dead, but the truth is that none of his wounds were life threatening. The only risk of him dying was if he bled to death, but without any major organs or arteries hit, his doctor tells us that it would've taken a long time. Your intention was never to kill him, was it?" I ask.

"Me... I didn't...I wouldn't...I was here with my children."

"The eyewitness couldn't see the woman's face. You fit the physical desciption that was given. Your husband has had multiple affairs. He'd hurt you, and you wanted to hurt him. So you waited for him to leave her apartment and you attacked him."

"How can you think that I could ...? She's acting like she can't believe that we're pointing the finger of guilt at her. "My mother confirmed that I was at home that evening." she says, her voice cracking.

"She did confirm that you were home when she left for the evening, but she had a cooking class that night. You waited for her to leave and then you got someone to sit with the children. Then you drove to where his mistress lives and waited for him to exit her building so that you could confront him."

"That's absurd!" Mrs. Hollenbeck says in complete disbelief.

"I don't think that it's out of the realm of possibility. He told you that he wasn't going to come home, and you showed him the knife. I'm guessing that he laughed at you. He wasn't taking you seriously and he started to walk away. That's when you struck first, cutting his back across his shoulder blade."

"I didn't do that. I love him. I could never hurt him that way," Mrs. Hollenbeck says with tears streaming down her face.

"He felt the knife slash his back, so he turned to defend himself. That's when you stabbed him the second time."

"Stop...Stop..." Mrs. Hollenbeck screams.

"Yes, stop!" Mrs. Hollenbeck's mother says firmly, stepping into the room.

"My daughter did nothing to that bastard, and you _will_ stop harassing her."

"With all due respect, ma'am, how can you be so certain that she didn't stab her husband?" Tiner asks, taking the question right out of my mouth.

Coming from the younger man, the question seemed to have been asked more out of curiosity and was less accusatory than if I'd been the one asking it.

She reaches the couch and sits down next to her daughter before answering his question.

"My daughter is a very intelligent woman most of the time, but when it comes to that man, she doesn't have a drop of sense," she replies as she pulls her daughter into her arms to comfort her. "Just the way I overheard you badging my daughter with your questions, I heard him tell her about his latest affair. I knew that there had been others, but this time there was something different about him. Unlike before, he didn't confess and then spend as much time as he could with his family as if he was sorry for what he'd done. One night about a week later, he left the house late, and I followed him. I saw which apartment building he entered, but I didn't follow him inside. I came back here and, when he got home two days later, I confronted him. He dismissed me and said that it was none of my business...that it was between him and my daughter. Part of me had to agree with that, but the part of me that wanted to protect my child couldn't let it go. However, I knew that telling her that he was still seeing that woman wouldn't convince her to leave him, so I did nothing. Then he came home a few nights later and told my daughter that he loved that woman and that he was leaving her. He spoke to her as if she'd done something wrong, not him. I was livid."

Having calmed down and obviously having heard what her mother had said, Mrs. Hollenbeck's head shoots up, leaving her mother's shoulder.

"Mother, what did you do?" Mrs. Hollenbeck asks, looking into her mother's eyes.

"I didn't go to my cooking class that night. I went to where that woman lived. The parking lot was pretty full, but I saw his car parked in front of one of the other buildings. I decided that I shouldn't park in the lot because I didn't want to risk him seeing my car, so I parked out on the street. I stood in the shadows between the two buildings so I wouldn't be seen, but I had a clear view of his car and I waited for him to come back to it. These two lawyers have the rest of the story pretty much right. I confronted him. He laughed. I stabbed him and then I just couldn't seem to stop stabbing him. I was just so angry at him for repeatedly hurting you."

"Oh, Mother!" Mrs. Hollenbeck cries out before embracing her mother.

"Everything's going to be okay, baby," she says soothingly to comfort her grown child as she strokes her long hair as one would a small child.

Even though her actions are focused on her daughter, she looks at Tiner and me. "I've been wondering how much longer I could hide what happened that night. Not only have I been having trouble living with myself knowing that I hurt another human being, no matter how much he may have deserved to be punished, I'd never want someone else to go to prison for my crime. You made my decision of when to come forward much easier ... listening to you accuse my daughter. I just couldn't let you upset her anymore. She's been through enough."

"Ma'am, you say that you didn't want anyone to go to jail for your crime, but that isn't true, is it? You did put the blood-soaked hoodie and the knife in the dumpster directly behind our client's building. You wanted her to be blamed for the stabbing, didn't you?" I ask.

"I'd been seen. I was running to get away, and then, in a moment of clarity, I realized that if the man who'd seen me had described me over the phone to the police, they'd be looking for a woman wearing a hoodie, so I took it off and threw it in the first dumpster I came to. I wasn't trying to pin what I'd done on anyone else."

"Why didn't the knife have any fingerprints on it?" Tiner asks.

"The knife came from an inexpensive set that I bought for school. The handles get slick when they get wet. I was afraid that, when I confronted him, the handle, moist from my sweating palms would slip out of my hand, so I'd wrapped the handle in a kitchen towel so that I could keep a good grip on it."

"Where's the rest of the knife set now?" I ask.

"In the trunk of my car," she answers.

"Tiner, call the police," I order.

With tears still streaming down her cheeks, Mrs. Hollenbeck speaks, "She was just protecting me. She doesn't deserve to go to jail," Mrs. Hollenbeck adds pleadingly.

"That isn't our decision to make, Mrs. Hollenbeck," I say, my tone one of compassion. "Since the incident happened off base and your mother is a civilian, we'll be turning this case back over to civilian authorities. The San Diego County District Attorney will be the one who'll make the decision on whether to charge her, and if he does, what the charge will be."

**TINER HOME**

**CHULA VISTA, CA**

**1828 LOCAL - 2128 EASTERN**

**TINER'S POV**

"Yoko, I'm home," I say loudly as I toe off my shoes on the mat just inside the front door.

"Jason?" I hear a moment before my petite wife appears in front of me.

"I'm sorry I'm late, but that case that I was working on with the captain...we got a confession out of his mother-in-law. It's over."

"I will heat up your dinner, and you can tell me all about it," she says, taking my briefcase from me.

My wife, though very fluent in English, has a hard time grasping certain concepts. Perhaps it's because of the culture in which she grew up. She's Japanese and grew up with parents who were very traditional. It isn't that she doesn't understand the idea of confidentiality, but rather that she doesn't feel that there's any reason for me to keep things from her because, as my wife, she wouldn't shame me by repeating anything that I told her.

My compromise has been to give her general information, but never names or specific details of any case, but if I continue to handle more high-profile, criminal cases, I question if any information that I give her is telling her too much.

Minutes later, I'm sitting at the kitchen table with a warm meal in front of me, and my wife is sitting across from me, patiently waiting for me to tell her about the case.

"I can't tell you anything more about the case, but there is something else that we need to talk about this evening," I inform her. "Captain Rabb has _asked _me if I want to continue to work on the bigger, often criminal cases, and since it would probably mean a lot of late nights, sometimes later than tonight ...maybe even calls in the middle of the night, I want to know how you'd feel about me telling the captain yes."

"Why is it that you want to do this work? Is it because you don't want to be here with me as much?" she asks before bowing her head as if she can't look me in the eye when I tell her that she's right, but she isn't correct.

I reach for her hand and hold onto it tightly, but she doesn't look at me.

"That isn't it at all," I say, but still she hasn't looked up.

I get up and move around the table until I'm standing next to her. I lift her chin with my finger until I'm sure that she can see into my eyes so that she can judge my sincerity.

"I love you. I want to spend as much time with you as I can, but what the captain is offering me...it's the job that I've been hoping to do...dreamed of having...the reason I went to law school. Captain Rabb has cautioned me not to use this one case as an example of how all cases turn out because he warned me that you don't always find out who committed the crime, especially with the certainty of a confession. He said that the reward of being a good attorney isn't in winning but in knowing that you did your best to find the truth."

"You think much of Captain Rabb, don't you?" Yoko asks.

"Yes. He's the best at what he does."

"You will be good at finding the truth, too," she says in a supportive tone.

"I hope so because, in the end, the captain is right. The truth is everything because justice cannot be achieved without it."


	56. Chapter 56 - Epilogue of Truth Is Everyt

**EPILOGUE **

**TUESDAY, MAY 5, 2009**

**RLSO**

**SAN DIEGO, CA**

**1130 LOCAL - 1430 EASTERN**

Tiner saw Harm walking briskly through the bullpen towards the elevators. It was rapidly approaching mid-day, so he thought that the captain was probably going out to lunch. However, the weight of what was on his mind was greater than his fear that he'd cause his CO to be delayed.

"Captain Rabb," Tiner called, doing double time to close the distance between them.

"Yes, Tiner," Harm responded kindly and unhurriedly, turning to make eye contact with the person calling out to him, a contridiction to the pace that he'd been traveling a moment ago.

"You're going out, Sir, so I don't wish to detain you, but when you have a free moment, Sir, I have a question about the Kane case."

Knowing that they'd solved the Kane case at the end of last week by way of a confession, Harm couldn't imagine what question Tiner might have to ask him, but if it was a simple one, he didn't want to put off what would take him a few seconds to answer now.

"Will my answer have to be more than a yes or no?" Harm asked.

"I'm afraid so, Sir." Tiner replied honestly.

"Are you available for the next hour, maybe a little longer, Tiner?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then you're with me. We'll talk on the way."

"Yes, Sir," Tiner responded.

Harm's pace picked up again, and Tiner had to almost jog to keep up with him.

Tiner was lucky that the elevator wasn't at their floor and that Captain Rabb had to press the call button, which allowed Tiner time to catch his breath.

"Captain, where are we going?" Tiner asked.

"To my house, Lieutenant. The former tenants, who'd originally told us they'd be out the last weekend of the month, are finally ready to turn the property back over to me. I'm going over there to see what needs to be done to get the house ready for my family."

Harm managed to get his answer out before the elevator signaled its arrival with a ding.

Since two people were already on the elevator, it wasn't the place to have a conversation about a case, causing the two men to remain silent as they descended to the main floor.

"It's a personal errand, so I'm taking my car, Lieutenant. Hop in," Harm ordered as they approach his red Corvette convertible, which was parked near the entrance to the building and adjancent to the command car.

"Yes, Sir," Tiner said, eager to ride in the classic beauty.

Once Harm had his car out of the parking lot and on the road towards the main gate, he began the converstaion.

"Lieutenant, since our involvement ended last Friday - aside from some paperwork - when the victim's mother-in-law confessed, what question do you have now about the case?"

"I should've been more specific, Sir. My question doesn't pertain to the case, but to the paperwork that you mentioned, Sir." Feeling that he was perhaps asking a foolish question or one to which he should know the answer without consulting his superior, Tiner hedged in getting to his question.

"On the final report, there's a section for comments/recommendations, and I'd thought that I'd just put in there that Chief Kane was cleared of the charge, but I have to question if that's sufficient since there's still a chargable offense that hasn't been addressed, Sir. Shouldn't I recommend that Master Chief Hollenbeck and Chief Kane be prosecuted for having the affair?"

"It's certainly an option for you to make that recommendation," Harm commented, thinking over the impact of the suggestion on the chief and master chief.

"I gather from the way you said that, Sir, that if you were me, you wouldn't make that recommendation, Sir?" Tiner stated as a question.

"Probably not," Harm answered honestly.

"You don't believe that their actions violated the UCMJ, Sir?" Tiner asked.

"They definitely did, by their own admission, but I think that there are some crimes that are better left unprosecuted."

"I don't understand, Sir."

"Let's say that their COs left the choice up to you. Who should be charged, with what and why?" Harm asked, the first step in demonstrating his point.

"Since the master chief is senior, I'd charge him with fraternization, and he being the married one of the two, adultery."

"I understand how you reached that decision, but I want to point out that they weren't in the same direct chain of command since one of them was stationed as part of the ship's crew and the other was part of an air wing assigned for deployment. Also, we're not talking about an enlisted service member and an officer here, so getting a conviction on fraternization with such a minimal difference in rank would be unlikely."

"I see your point about that charge, but what about the adultery charge, Sir?" Tiner asked.

"A case could be made for that charge because, as you pointed out, being senior and the one married, Hollenbeck, even if he was the one who was pursued, should've said no and reported her for sexual harrassment."

"You said that a case could be made, Sir. Does it mean that, if you were the one who was making the decision, you wouldn't charge him, Sir?"

Harm knew that, now as a CO, part of his reason for not moving on the rarely prosecuted charge of adultery was partly due to the resources of time and money that it would take away from the budget and the impact that the shortage could have on other cases, but this was a hypothetical situation, and the mention of monetary concerns didn't seem to belong. Besides, it wasn't Harm's only reason why he wouldn't opt to charge the master chief.

"I wouldn't, but my primary reason may not be as clear to you. I'd decline to prefer charges because the punishment doesn't hurt only the one charged, but it also impacts the family, compounding an already existing problem."

Tiner looked confused, so Harm explained.

"It would be unusual for someone to receive jail time for a conviction on an adultery charge, which leaves monetary punishements such as having to forfiet some pay, being reduced in rank or discharged, which means that the punishment usually does as much damage to the family financially as the adultery did emotionally."

"I understand that, especially in the master chief's case because of his severely ill child, but doesn't it seem like we're condoning his behavior if we do nothing?" Tiner asks.

"I didn't say to do nothing, Lieutenant. Sometimes in an effort to achieve a balance between crime and punishment, you need to be creative," Harm said, sounding mischieveous.

"For instance, I don't think that a follow-up with Mrs. Hollenbeck to check on her and her children would be a bad idea, and while you were there, I'm sure that a resourceful attorney such as yourself could find a way to give her information on where she could go if she chose to leave her husband and clarify that, as dependent children, their father would be obligated to maintain medical coverage for them. You can do that without her perceiving that you're offering to represent her in the matter," Harm explained.

Arriving ten minutes later at the Rabb home in La Jolla, Harm was as equally enthusiastic about getting inside to survey what work needed to be done to prepare for his family's arrival as he was in continuing to mentor Tiner.


	57. Chapter 57 - Story 46 Love and Support

**AN: **I started writing again, and couldn't find a way to start the new story. I needed a bridge between the last story and the next story, so this is the piece I came up with...it is 'longish' so I've decided to post it in two, an A and B, parts.

**CHAPTER FORTY-SIX -****Love and Support**

**PART A**

**THURSDAY, MAY 28, 2009**

**GUEST BEDROOM**

**RABB HOME**

**LA JOLLA, CA**

**2250 LOCAL - FRIDAY 0150 EASTERN**

**HARM'S POV**

I can't sleep...not when I'm hours away from being 'home'.

Home...

Funny, I'm lying in one of the beds that came in the first shipment of household goods in the house that Mac and I bought together, yet, no matter how familiar the place or the furnishings, it isn't home without her and the kids here...quieter, but not home.

I find myself chuckling, amused by my last thought.

We've got our travel plans all worked out so I should be enjoying the quiet while I can because, even with our scheduled stops along the way to make it more of a family vacation than a move, the last thing that a week on the road with six children will be is quiet.

The last two weeks have passed by painstakingly slowly. I think it was seeing Mac without really being there that made the waiting that much harder, not easier as I'd thought it would be.

It was the first Wednesday of May during my weekly call with Mattie when I mentioned to her that I really would like to fly out to see Mac for Mother's Day, but that it wasn't a practical option, so it wasn't going to happen. That's when Mattie informed me that there was a way for me to see the family without getting on a plane. She said that I should "Skype" with them.

I was aware that the technology to see and talk to someone was available, vid-phone comes to mind. However, I had no idea that it was no longer some hi-tech, expensive, government-type use only but that it had become something available to the average Joe.

Mattie was happy to poke fun at my lack of knowledge about current technology as she explained that Skype was a program on newer computers that, along with a webcam, allowed you to both speak and see the person at the other end of your 'call'.

The next day I got in touch with the most knowledgeable computer geek I know here, Jason Tiner.

After Tiner explained that my laptop didn't have a webcam - I knew that much - and was too old to be compatible with the Skype program, he offered to let me use his computer to contact my family for Mother's Day.

Next, I needed an East Coast connection, and if there was anyone who knew more about computers than Tiner and was in a position to help, it was my friend, Bud Roberts.

Now I had computer connections on both coasts and a plan to surprise Mac.

I'dcallthe Saturday before Mother's Day while Mac was at the Roberts' home for Abby's piano lesson, and I could talk to everyone, maybe even sit in on part of Abby's lesson.

Also in the know were Harriet and Mattie, who'd been easily convinced to lend a hand by making sure that not only were Abby and Mac there, but the rest of the children, too, so that I could see and talk to all of them.

Mac had teared up when she'd seen me on the screen, and I'd wanted nothing more than to wipe away her tears and hold her, but no one has found a way to do _that_ over the Internet.

It was wonderful to hear and see my family, but after hanging up, I'd felt emptier and more alone than I had before I'd seen them.

So, I dealt with the feelings the only way I knew how, and that was to keep busy.

Since we had a lighter than normal workload at the office and minimal repairs were needed on the house, I had only limited success in my effort to keep my mind occupied elsewhere.

I probably made it worse by choosing to leave my parents' house and live here when the first shipment of household goods arrived ten days ago - a decision that wasn't easy after my mother finally sat down with me on Mother's Day and told me about her heart attack and surgery. It had apparently started to weigh more heavily on her mind as the days dwindled before my family was to arrive.

********FLASHBACK******

Mother's Day

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Kitchen

Burnett Home

La Jolla, CA

0730 Local

Harm's POV

Seeing Mac and the children via the web yesterday gave me a reprieve in missing them for only as long as they were visible on the monitor.

I opened the refrigerator and am staring blankly into it when, from behind me, I hear my mother ask, "Would you like for me to fix you something to eat?"

"No, thank you. I'm not very hungry," I reply as I spy a container of orange juice on the top self. "I just thought that I'd have some juice before I went on my run."

"Oh, you're on your way out?"

She sounds surprised, which seems odd since I do some form of exercise every morning.

Now that I think about it, her question was strange, too. Doesn't she remember that she, Frank and I are going to a Mother's Day Brunch at the Yacht Club later?

I place the orange juice container on the counter and then push the refrigerator door closed.

"I could go for a swim, but I'm already dressed for a run," I comment jokingly as I reach for the cabinet door where the glasses are kept.

Her facial expression doesn't change, and it concerns me. There's definitely something on her mind.

"Mom, are you okay?" I ask, stepping closer to her and abandoning my attempt to get a glass of juice.

"No, I don't think I am."

She sounds confused. No, I think conflicted describes her tone better.

"What is it? Aren't you feeling well?" I ask, my concern obvious, and I hope that she doesn't figure out that Frank told me about her health issue.

"Yes. No...let me get your juice. I think it's time that I came clean with you."

"Came clean? What are you talking about, Mom?"

She doesn't respond to my query. She only moves over to the cabinet where I was standing moments ago, pulls down two glasses and then fills them with juice before returning the container to the shelf in the refrigerator.

She picks up the two glasses, appears to take a deep breath and then turns, motioning for me to sit at the kitchen table.

I do as was silently requested of me.

She places one glass of orange juice in front of me and the other one on the table across from me. However, she doesn't sit down, but remains standing.

She stares down at her glass of orange juice for a few moments before lifting her eyes to look at me before she begins to speak.

"Harm, I need to tell you something...something that I should have told you sooner, but please understand that, at the time, I thought it was for the best to keep it to myself. However, as the time for my grandchildren to arrive here draws near, I realize that you need to know."

At first, I thought that she was going to tell me about her heart attack and surgery, but I can't make a connection between that and her grandchildren, leaving me to wonder if my first thought was correct.

"If it concerns the children in any way, yes, you need to tell me," I say before realizing that my mother's demeanor has changed. Her shoulders are slumped and she's avoiding making eye contact with me.

"Mom..." I say, beginning my thought in a soft, hopefully reassuring tone, but the sight of tears beginning to pool in her eyes worries me, and I'm unable to finish my sentence.

Has she had a health setback that I don't know about? I wonder, my concern growing with every second that she remains silent.

"Frank," my mother says, anxiety evident in her voice as he steps into the room.

"Trish, what is it?" he asks, his love and concern for my mother apparent in his tone.

"I can't tell him. He's going to be angry with me."

"Oh, Trish," Frank says, taking her into his arms and pulling her to him.

"Today is the perfect day to tell me whatever it is that has you upset. It's Mother's Day. No one can be angry or upset with their mom on Mother's Day," I joke to lighten the mood that's taken over the room in the last few moments.

My mother turns in Frank's arms and offers me a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"Your son has a point. If it isn't a law, it's at least a rule that you can't be angry or upset with your mother today," Frank chimes in. I'm sure in hopes of encouraging my mother to tell me.

She looks into Frank's eyes, seeking support from him in the silent way that two people in love have of communicating.

"I don't know if I can..." Her voice trails off.

"Why don't I get things started?" Frank says, releasing her but taking her hand once they're seated across the table from me.

"Harm, your mother and I have been talking about when the children arrive. We're sure that you and Mac would like to have some time alone after a week or two to get settled in, and you know that we love our grandchildren and wouldn't mind at all having them stay with us for a weekend, even a week normally, but..." Frank begins but stops to let my mother take over.

"...We don't know if I can handle the energy of five young children all at once right now."

Now I get the link between my children and her recent heart attack and surgery, and I'm once again certain that she's about to divulge her health information.

"Seeing them yesterday on the computer screen, I saw how active the little ones are, and I don't think that I should jump into babysitting right away, but that's not to say that Ty and Abby can't come over to visit. I just ..." Mom stops and heaves a big sigh.

My mother seems to be struggling with getting out her thoughts.

"Maybe if you told me why you keep saying things like "not right now" as if something isn't the same or as good as it will be, I might be able to understand what you're trying to tell me."

"Harm, you have to understand that I didn't want to worry you or put a damper on your vacation at your grandmother's, and you were going to be here soon, so I thought that it could wait until you were here and could see for yourself that I'm okay. Then, when you got here, I was doing better ... and there never seemed to be a right time to tell you, so I didn't say anything, but now I don't want my grandchildren to think that I don't love them because I'm not as active with them as I have been in the past."

"Mom..." I say impatiently, trying to encourage her to get to the point because that's the way that she'd expect me to react in this situation, and I'm trying to protect Frank by not letting on that I know about her health.

"While you were at the farm over Easter, I had a heart attack."

"You had a what?" I muster in a tone that doesn't say 'angry', but more 'you've got to be kidding me' that you didn't think that I needed to know that before now. You're my mother!

"There's more," she says sorrowfully. "While I was in the hospital, they ran some tests, and I had to have by-pass surgery."

I reach for her hand, take it in mine and squeeze it gently.

"You or Frank should've called me," I scold, glancing at Frank with a scowl, again to cover up the fact that he'd already told me about her health scare, though I think he does deserve a little scolding for not calling me when it happened.

"Don't be angry with him. I made him promise that he wouldn't call because it would ruin your visit to the farm."

"How are you now?" I ask.

"Much better... I still get tired easily, but I'm not sure if it's from everything that my body's been through the last few months or the stress of running the gallery right now."

**********END FLASHBACK**********

I was able to put her concerns about her grandchildren to rest. I explained to her that, though I miss my wife immensely, I miss my children, too, and that Mac and I had no plans for a getaway any time soon.

I was also able to ease her mind by telling her that Mac and I would speak to the older children and simply tell them that grandma hasn't been feeling well, and that they can spend the night with her and grandpa when she's feeling better.

When I asked what was more stressful than usual about running her gallery, she simply said that there were some problems that she needed to address and was looking forward to having Mattie there, someone whom she could trust to assist her with sorting out some things.

I asked Frank about the situation at the gallery later on that day, and all he added was that there was a painting missing and that, while sales seemed to be steady, it didn't match up with the funds that were in the bank, but that he was sure that there had been too much on Sharon Lassiter's shoulders - she's Mom's manager at the gallery - and that he was sure that they'd find that simple mistakes had been made while she'd had the complete responsibility of running the gallery in Mom's long absence.

The news that there was any trouble, no matter how big or small, made me feel guilty because I know that part of the reason why she was away from her business for so long is because she was in Virginia taking care of me and my family after my injury and the early arrival of her namesake.

Our conversation ended that morning after I pointed out to her that I wasn't happy that she hadn't told me when it happened or at the very least upon my arrival here, but that I did understand her motivation for handling the situation the way she had.

She looked at me with eyes glistening with unshed tears and asked, "Are we still going to brunch?"

The question felt more serious, like she was really asking if I was still claiming her as my mother.

I smiled at her.

"Yes, after I finish my run, I'll be back to shower and change," I answered, and her demeanor immediately became more relaxed.

I stood, so she stood, assuming that the discussion was over.

However, I had one more thing to say.

I reached out and took her into an embrace.

Hugging her gently, I spoke softly, saying, "That doesn't mean that you get out of promising me that you'll never keep something like this from me again."

Her reply came in the form of her nodding her head against my chest.

"Since that's settled, I need to get going or we'll be late to brunch," I said before kissing the top of my mother's head and releasing her.

**FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2009**

**LIVING ROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**0820 LOCAL - 0620 PACIFIC**

**MAC'S POV**

I've got the babies settled into the play area, and Sami is watching a cartoon, so I have a moment to enjoy the rest of the Starbucks latte that I bought at the drive-thru on my way home from dropping off the children at school.

It's my last week of car pooling, and I'm looking forward to it being over.

When it was our week to drive and Harm was still here, he took Ty, Abby and the Roberts children to school on his way to work. However, being in charge of the car pool with him not here, I have to load my five children in the car and then pick up the Roberts children. It's the equivalent of a major troop movement!

In my delight over the end of car pool hassles, there's also sadness. We're moving away from my dear friends and their family.

The corners of my mouth start to turn up in a smile as I think about the way Harriet teases me that we won't be gone long. She's sure that Harm will be the Navy's next Judge Advocate General and that we'll be moving back to the area before I know it.

I've been on a roller coaster of emotions since Mother's Day.

Before the mixed emotional reaction to the end of school, I've complained this morning about the traffic, the weather, how long it took them to hand me my coffee...everything, and it's Harm's fault because I haven't been able to get more than three hours of sleep a night since he called me on Mother's Day.

It was a sweet gesture for him to arrange the call, but it was his presence on the monitor that led to my sleepless nights.

It wasn't as if I didn't know that I missed him, it was just that, until I _saw_ him, I didn't realize how _much_ I missed him.

It's easy not to get caught up in my thoughts of him during the day because I'm busy with our five children, but at night while they're sleeping - especially these last two weeks since I saw him - it's been hard for my mind not to drift to thoughts of him while I lie in bed at night when the house is quiet.

Though in some ways it was painful for me to see Harm on that screen, I don't regret him calling in the least, not only because it was a thoughtful 'gift' for both me and his mother - so that she was able to see her grandchildren - but also because his call came at about the half way point in the final stretch of time before we're reunited as a family, and it appears to have been exactly what the children needed in order to make it 'til today.

The change in the children's mood was immediate when they saw Harm.

Ty became energetic and chatted happily with his dad and grandpa.

Abigail got a mile-wide grin as Harm and his parents 'sat in' on a portion of her piano lesson, and she gushed when her daddy complimented her by saying, "You've always played beautifully, but I think you've gotten even better while I've been here."

Sami, in disbelief that Harm could really see her through the computer, got into the background of her older siblings until he scolded her, telling her, "Samantha, I see you jumping around and making faces. You were told that you'd have a turn, but if you don't start behaving yourself, I'll make sure that you're the last one I speak with. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Daddy," Sami replied, her voice sounding sweeter than honey.

Harm may have been showing his love for all of his children by seeing that they all had equal time, but I saw the twinkle in his eyes as he scolded her. Sami definitely has that big man wrapped around her little finger...though she does have competition from Patty for being the best scene stealer.

I was standing near the computer listening to Harm's voice - I find that his voice soothes my soul, or maybe it's my heart. Whichever, I find that it comforts me.

He was speaking with Sami, and I was enjoying the sound of his voice when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement that caused me to look in time to see Patty crawling.

I watched with amazement as the baby, who I'd been so worried about being developmentally delayed, crawled like a pro towards her daddy's voice and, upon arriving at the chair that Sami was currently occupying, pulled herself up and gurgled something that sounded like da-da, at least to me.

Yes, it was a wonderful Mother's Day for me, but today will top that. Not only will I be able to hear Harm's voice, but I'll be able to touch him. Better yet, he'll be able to wrap his arms around me.

"Momma, how much longer now?" Sami asks, pulling me out of my reverie.

Having my thoughts interrupted, I have no idea what she's talking about and ask, "How much longer until what?"

"Til it's time to go get Daddy," Sami says in her 'don't be silly' tone.

Yes, if I'd thought a moment before posing my question, I'd have known. She just caught me off guard.

I could tell Sami the number of hours and minutes, even seconds before we need to leave the house, but at the age of four, the concept of time is simple - right now or a long time from now.

"We still have a long time, but it's getting closer because, before we left for school, Daddy hadn't left California yet, but now, Daddy has started his trip and is on a plane heading our way."

Sami looks disappointed.

"Why don't we go to your room and see if we can find you a special outfit to wear when we go to pick up Daddy?" I suggest with a smile, hoping that not only will she agree, but that the task will take up enough time that it will be time for lunch preparation, nap time, and then, after dropping off the Roberts children at their home after school, along with my babies - knowing that it would be easier to maneuver in the air terminal if I have only the three older children, Harriet offered to watch Matthew and Patty for a few hours - it will finally be time for us to head to the airport to pick up Harm.


	58. Chapter 58 - Part B of Love and Support

I don't often respond to the negative feedback. However, there was one recently made that I want to address before giving you the second half of the current story. The reviewer was upset that my location stamp on the Rabb home in Virginia says 'Rental Home'. This is my response to your concern/comment. Here is my response: Though as you pointed out there house in VA is long-term, many - yes, not all - military families view there house in a duty station locale as temporary. Though it rarely happens in the current military downsizing and an economic times, it is possible and does happen that a serviceman/woman will be rotated to a new duty assigned before their original rotation date is scheduled, thus making almost any house they live in "temporary". Of the military families I spoke to, most, again not all, said that when they've purchased a house - their reasons varied - they felt that was their "home". So, the reason for the word Rental Home in the location stamp I thought was a way of expressing the temporary "feel" of a home to a military family, and was not meant to "slam" or demean in any way those around the world who rent.

...and now for the conclusion of Story 46

**PART B**

**LIVING ROOM**

**JOHNSON HOUSE**

**BLACKSBURG, VA**

**1615 LOCAL - 1315 PACIFIC**

**MATTIE'S POV**

"Mattie, we need to get moving or we'll never make it to your parents' place for dinner," Kevin comments as if I'm not aware that we should be on the road to Manassas by now.

"I think I left the stove on. I'll be right back," I mutter.

"Mattie, you've checked the stove and made half a dozen trips upstairs for your laptop, phone charger and I don't remember what else in the last fifteen minutes. You're stalling. Why? Is it because of me?"

My expression must convey my confusion before I've verbalized it because he adds another question, "Do you think that they aren't going to like the fact that I'm with you?"

"No. I think they'll be fine with that part, especially when they find out that you love me and that you've made a commitment to support me in my effort to stay sober," I reply to put his mind at ease.

"Mattie..." he says, taking my arm. "...you know that you don't have to tell them_ today_."

"Yes, I do. I don't want to...I mean my dad will have just gotten here, and I'm going to drop this bomb on him that I have a drinking problem. Welcome home, Dad, right?... But with us all traveling together in a week, and then me living there for the summer, I think they need to know, don't you?" I ask, but I don't stop talking to wait for a response. "I think that the longer I wait, the harder it'll be for me to do it, so for me, the sooner I'm honest with them, the better."

He nods, signaling his understanding of the feeling that I've expressed before saying reassuringly, "You know, I don't think it's going to be as bad as you think it'll be...I mean, you know that they've suspected for months that you have a problem. So, the news isn't going to be a complete surprise to them...and you know that they love you."

"They do, and I know that they'll be supportive of my recovery. Truthfully, I don't think that I'm worried as much about telling them that I think my drinking might be a problem as I am about..." I take a deep breath, trying to breathe in the strength and courage to admit my core fear.

"About what? The way that your parents will handle the news?" Kevin asks calmly, urging me to continue so that he'll understand my fear.

"I'm not worried about my dad. He'll accept the news at face value and ask what he can do to help, but it isn't going to be that easy with Mac."

"Because she's a Marine?"

I don't know if his comment comes from his own feeling of intimidation because Mac is a take-charge woman who can handle herself or if he's trying to joke to lighten the mood and make me feel more comfortable so that I'll continue to talk freely.

"Her Marine status has nothing to do with it. My concern comes from knowing that she's been where I am now. She'll ask questions. She'll want to know what it was that made me admit to myself that I might have a problem, and that story is something that I don't know if I'm ready to share."

"I'd like to think that you decided that you couldn't live without me, but I'm not that naive. If it were about me, you'd have quit drinking months ago." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "You might get over some of the fear of telling them if you had some idea of what you were going to say, and you could do that by telling me now. Not only would you get to rehearse what you were going to say to Mac if or when she asks, but you'd be telling me what happened that made you knock on my door last weekend in tears, and I think it's important for me to know, too...if we're going to move forward with us."

I feel the unmistakable sting of forming tears.

"I love you and I'd like to get back together with you, but I just have so much going on right now, so much to work out. I don't think that I can be in a relationship right now."

"We already have a relationship. We're friends, best friends, but we had something more, something special, and when you're ready, I'd like to be your boyfriend again. If you're open to the idea of being my girlfriend, I think we owe it to ourselves to build a strong foundation for our future by being open and honest with each other, starting now."

"I'd like that, but it isn't fair to you. I don't know when I'll be ready to..." My voice trails off as the uncertainty of my future washes over me.

"There's no time stamp on when I see us together again. Maybe I think too simply, but I believe that you and I are meant to be and that, if you'll let me be here now to love and support you as your friend, be part of your life as you move forward with your recovery, our relationship will bloom naturally into what it's always been meant to be."

"No time limit? No pressure? No conditions?" I ask skeptically.

"No time limit. No pressure. However, there is one condition, and that's that we're honest with each other, even if it's hard to say, such as you telling me when you feel pressured by something that I've said or done or me having to tell you that I think you're shutting me out of your life...things like that. As long as we're communicating honestly, we'll be fine."

I'm still reluctant to tell him about the incident that changed my mind about my drinking being no big deal because my moment of enlightenment could be the end of our new beginning.

However, he's right on two counts. One, telling him will give me practice in saying it aloud, and that may make me less nervous when I tell my parents. Second, if he and I are going to have a chance at a future together, I...we need to be truthful with each other.

"You'd better sit down. What happened a week ago that gave me a wake-up call is a short story, but it may take me some time to get it out."

Kevin sits and reaches for my hand, gently urging me to sit down next to him.

Once I'm seated, I can't look him in the eye, but I don't let go of his hand.

"I feel that I should first say that it could've been much worse and it's the combination of the fear of what could've happened and the embarrassment of, I guess you'd call it, seeing what could become of me if I keep drinking."

Suddenly, when I'm about to tell him what happened, his close proximity is no longer comforting but fills me with anxiety, so I stand before continuing with my confession.

"Last Friday, I was invited to the frat house for a party. Of course it goes without saying that I went and that I drank...a lot."

"Go on," he urges, and I can hear the uneasiness in his voice, but I think that he's worried about the possible scenarios that have begun to pass through his mind about what could've happened to me.

I don't want to go on, but I think that it'd be cruel of me not to finish the story, leaving him to wonder what did happen that night.

"I woke up Saturday morning on the couch at the frat house. I'd drunk so much that I'd passed out there. I sat up and was letting my head clear when I heard a noise. It was a girl, half-naked, rifling through stuff in the room as if she was searching for something. When I asked if I could help, she said, "only if you've seen my pants. I can't seem to find them". I asked her where she remembered having them last like I was asking about something less shocking like her car keys. I mean, who loses their pants?"

I take a moment to let out the breath that I hadn't realized that I'd been holding before continuing.

"We spoke a little while we looked for her pants and, as we talked, it struck me that she didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that she didn't know where she'd 'lost' them. She even joked that it must have been a pretty good party because it's only the good ones where she wakes up and can't find her clothes. She didn't remember much of the night before except for knowing that she'd drunk a lot and had had sex with someone. It was in listening to her that it hit me that, if I keep drinking, one day, I could be her. I don't want to become her, not remembering where I took off my clothes or for whom. She still hadn't found her pants when I darted out of there. I ended up at your dorm room door, crying and half-crazy as it sank in that you and my parents had reason to worry about me."

Kevin stands, takes me in his arms and holds me until our individual fears subside, and then he says softly, "I'm glad that you told me, and I'm even happier that you're okay...and your parents will be, too."

I wipe at the tears that have begun to roll down my cheeks.

"Then we should go. Will you stay with me until I can tell them?" I ask.

"Of course, for as long as you need me," he responds as he takes my hand and walks me towards the front door.

**MASTER BEDROOM**

**RABB RENTAL HOME**

**MANASSAS, VA**

**2145 LOCAL**

**MAC'S POV**

I hear the faint sound of music as Harm strums his guitar a few rooms away.

I doubt that Harm needed to play a note in order for anyone to fall asleep. Between the excitement of preparing for today and the nearly constant family activities since his arrival, I'm sure that the children were exhausted and fell asleep soon after we tucked them in.

Perhaps Harm is playing to relax himself.

Though I know that he's glad to be here, I doubt that he was prepared for everything that happened today, and I hope that his volunteering to do the final check on the children tonight was because of how much he missed them and not about putting off coming to bed.

Though we did kiss at the airport and sneaked a smooch or two here and there, I hope that, like myself, he's looking forward to being able to have some 'alone' time tonight.

However, Mattie may have put a damper on my idea of how this night should end.

Though I'm proud of Mattie for taking the first step by admitting that her drinking is a problem. I'm not sure that the incident that she told us about will be her rock bottom, but I also didn't want to convey any negative thoughts concerning her announcement. Sometimes questioning the conviction of an alcoholic's recovery doesn't have a positive effect. Instead, some perceive questions as doubt in their ability or sincerity to stay sober, often resulting in a 'you didn't believe that I could do it' as an excuse to drink when they hit a rough patch on their journey to recovery.

I believe that Harm thought that Mattie was having us sit down after dinner with she and Kevin to inform us that they were a couple again.

It was my first thought, as well.

Though it may have not have been the news that we'd expected to hear, the news itself wasn't a complete surprise to either of us because we've suspected for some time that she has a drinking problem, but I'm sure that Harm wasn't prepared to hear about what happened at the frat house last week on the day that he returned home.

The fact that Harm didn't ask any questions or voice any concerns is something that I need to discuss with him.

Such a conversation has the potential to become heated if we disagree, and I was so looking forward to being in his arms that I don't want to talk about it tonight.

On the other hand, though I want to be with my husband tonight, it could be that he's already upset about Mattie's news, and if we don't discuss it before we go to bed, he'll toss and turn all night, not getting any rest.

He's flying out of the airfield in Leesburg in the morning - where he had Keeter fly his plane to yesterday - so that he and Ty wouldn't have to leave so much earlier than the rest of the family in order to drive to Blacksburg to make the flight to the farm. Instead, the entire family will pile into my minivan and go to the airfield in Leesburg together.

I don't want him to take that plane up without the proper rest...but I don't want to spend the night talking about Mattie's problem when that could upset him, which may also result in him not sleeping tonight.

I'm not sure what I should do, so I nervously twist the ends of the belt of my robe that I have tied around my waist as I wait for Harm to come into the bedroom.

**2202 LOCAL**

**HARM'S POV**

I volunteered to do the final check on the children because I missed them so much that the time between them picking me up and their bedtime seemed to be minutes, not hours, making it uncertain who was more unhappy that it was their bedtime, me or them.

I may have had another motive besides the joy of seeing my children once more tonight when I volunteered to do bed check. One that I hadn't consciously considered until I entered our bedroom and find that I'm disappointed that Mac isn't in something slinky and sexy - not as a means of seduction but of invitation.

Being aware that Mattie's news may have taken Mac back to a time in her life that isn't filled with fond memories, I have to wonder if the sight of my wife in her comfortable, knee-length, 'everyday' robe means that my expectation of an intimate reunion with her may not be the way this night ends.

"Everyone asleep?" Mac asks.

"Mattie's still awake. She's on the phone with Kevin, but everyone else is asleep," I reply, wanting to grab her and pull her to me, but the way that she's twisting the ends of her belt, I'm not sure that any move into her personal space would be advised until I know what's on her mind.

"I'm glad that he's supporting her," she comments, but I'm not convinced that it's all that she has to say on the matter.

"But?" I say like a question, inviting her to finish her thought.

"But, nothing...I'm happy that he said that he'll support her."

Still feeling like she's holding back, I say questioningly, "So, you're skeptical. He says that he'll stand by her, but you don't believe him?"

"I believe that he means what he says, but I don't know if he knows what he's getting himself into...how hard it might be for him...for them to get through this to a place where, when she needs to relax or be comforted, the first thing she doesn't reach for is a drink."

"Your doubts revolve around him. I was questioning _her_ commitment to get sober, not his to stand beside her," I state flatly.

"What do you mean?" she asks, finally releasing the tortured ends of her belt.

"I don't have a lot of reference material, but knowing what it took for you, an equally strong woman in my opinion, to decide that it was time to get sober, I question whether the experience that she told us about is enough for her to be successful with recovery."

After a brief pause, I add, "Another reason for my skepticism is that she kept saying that she has a drinking problem. Not once did she use the word alcoholic, which makes me question whether she's being completely honest with herself about how serious her problem is or how tough it's going to be for her...that she doesn't have to avoid drinking at just one party, but learn to live in an alcohol-drinking world."

"I take it that you've been reading up on the subject?" she asks.

"Yes, but part of my information came from what I've learned from you," I state honestly.

"I thought that I was the only one of us who picked up on the fact that she said that she went to a meeting, but she didn't say that she spoke, nor did she use the word alcoholic."

"You weren't, and I don't mind telling you my concerns, but I didn't want to say anything or question her tonight because I thought it might send a negative, unsupportive message to her when that wouldn't be the case at all. I love her and I hope that the peek at what her future might be like if she keeps drinking was enough for her to address her problem..."

"...But you have some parental worries that it won't be, yet you want her to know that you'll do anything that you can to support her recovery," Mac finishes for me. "I felt the same way, and that's why I didn't say anything either, and in the end, despite our concerns, it's her journey to make, and all we can do is make sure that she knows that we love her and that we support her."

She said the last as she stepped close to me, and my arms wasted no time in wrapping around her.

With Mac in my arms for the first time in over a month, and taking some comfort in the fact that our daughter appears to have begun to address her drinking problem, there's only one thing on my mind.

My head begins to tilt slowly downward, my lips wanting so much to make contact with hers.

Unsure if she's ready or able to let go of the thoughts that discussing Mattie's problem may have invoked, whether they be about Mattie or herself, once my lips have made contact with hers, the kiss that begins is tentative, uncertain. ... Is this really the right time to start this?

Mac leaning into me, her lips fusing to mine, leaves no room for doubt that she's as ready as I am for this part of the reunion.

The kiss that began hesitantly quickly becomes one of heated passion.

It's only with Mac that I've ever known the feeling of this combination of love and lust. It's confusing as my heart wants to adore every inch of her while my body wants to take her now.

My skin tingles as her fingertips graze my abdomen as she clutches at the hem of my shirt, pushing it up.

She's soon freed me of it, and my body aches to hold her even closer to me - skin to skin.

With one arm firmly planted in the middle of her lower back, my tongue grazes her lower lip, and her lips part.

I hear a faint moan as my tongue slips into her mouth.

While our tongues begin to tangle with each other, my free hand finds the belt of her robe and, just seconds later, I've slipped my hand inside her robe.

As my hand moves under the cloth, enjoying the feel of her soft flesh as it roams, it's also searching for anything that will be an obstruction to my goal.

My thumb grazes the edge of her breast, and the heat radiating off it makes my jeans suddenly feel much tighter.

My hand continues to travel down to her waist, over her hip and around to her buttocks. Realizing that she has on no undergarments, I have the urge to tear off her robe and get inside her. However, I also want to kiss and caress every inch of her body in a form of worship that can be described with one word - love.

Love and lust are battling for control of my will.

Lust takes the lead as our lips part, and while taking a moment to catch our breath, Mac works quickly to unfasten my jeans.

She peppers my chest with kisses while her hands unzip my pants.

She's made me a little more comfortable by giving me some room for expansion, which slightly eases my immediate need, so love and lust are once again vying as my best course of action.

The push and pull of the two emotions is in itself stimulating and adds to my desire for her. I know that I couldn't articulate how she makes me feel, at least not in my current state, so I find myself breathlessly whispering, "I've missed you."

She gives me a sexy smile in response and then says seductively, "I hope you plan to show me how much you've missed me."

Instantly, the need to make her wish come true moves loving her into the lead, and my lips claim hers.

This time when our passionate kiss forces us to separate to take in oxygen, I push her robe off her shoulders until it falls to the floor.

I gaze at her body. The color of her skin, the curves, the scars ... are all as I remember.

"Beautiful," I mutter, scooping her up into my arms.

I waste no time in making it to our bed where I bend slightly at the knee so that she doesn't feel as if I've dropped her when I release her.

She falls almost in the middle of our bed, right where I'd intended.

Before joining her, I remove my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion.

As I get into bed, her hand glances across my growing erection.

I don't know if her touch was accidental or intentional. However, I do know that her touch was almost my undoing.

I position myself so that I'm over her in a way that makes her neck easily accessible and I begin to kiss her neck below her jaw line until I reach_ that _spot behind her ear.

My hand caresses one of her breasts, and the gentle kneading of her soft mound heats her flesh.

I move to get into a comfortable position to give the hot breast more attention.

While one hand gives the other breast attention, I begin my assault by placing cooling kisses around the mound of heated flesh. Then my tongue continues to give attention by giving her erect nipple a flick before circling it completely in the way that I know she enjoys.

She reacts to my actions by arching her back, pushing her breast up into my face.

I take it into my mouth and suck gently until the taste of breast milk touches my tongue.

It isn't that the taste is unpleasant, but with my mind filled with carnal thoughts, it's odd for me to think of her breasts that are aiding in the pleasure of this time together as the same means by which she gives our daughter added nutrition.

Though I didn't suspect that there would be a different outcome to the same action on the other breast, I hoped that, knowing that it would happen this time, my reaction to it would be different. It wasn't.

Not able to reconcile the two concepts that this woman is both a mother and the object of my lustful thoughts tonight, I begin to kiss upward, starting in the valley between her breasts.

I reach my destination of her lips, and we lock in a passionate kiss with dueling tongues while my hand roams over her skin. My hand dips down between her legs and, finding her wet and ready, I begin to move once again, this time to position myself to enter her.

Eagerly, perhaps too much so, I sink my full length into her.

She lets out a moan of pleasure.

I pull out and once again push my erection fully into her.

This time she groans out a "Yes," acknowledging that her need to have me inside her is just as great as mine is to be there.

When I start to enter her again, she raises her hips to meet my next plunge into her, sending me just that much deeper inside her, and this time it's I who lets out a primal groan of pleasure.

Though there's love between us, our pace is a more feverish pace, like lovers who've been separated for too long and have only a limited time to reconnect.

It isn't long before we reach that state of bliss that comes from release.

Sated and spent, we assume a post-coital cuddle, our need for sleep quickly replacing our need to make love.

As I drift off, I think of what a difference this is from last night when I couldn't sleep. However, with Mac in my arms and my children down the hall, I know that I'm 'home' because we're all together in the same place.


End file.
